


Run In My Veins

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Acting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blushing, Boys Kissing, Caring, Conversations, Dating, Developing Relationship, Drinking Games, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ex Sex, Falling In Love, Fingerfucking, Flirting, Getting to Know Each Other, HIV/AIDS, Holding Hands, Illnesses, M/M, Making Out, Medication, Meeting the Parents, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Road Trips, Romantic Comedy, Safer Sex, Second Chances, Side Effects, Sleeping Together, Starting Over, Suicidal Thoughts, Television Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:05:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6711874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months after an almost-forgotten one night stand, Mark has news that could alter the direction of both his and Nicky's lives, and not necessarily for the worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> About a week ago I sat down at my computer and had the sudden, ridiculous thought 'a road-trip rom-com about HIV!' This is the result of some very strange late-night writing sessions, too many cups of tea, and probably far too little editing. Title credit is from Of Monsters and Men's song 'Wolves Without Teeth'.

Nicky was trying very hard to pay attention.

When he'd swiped right, almost a week ago, it had been to a picture of a very cute young man with dark hair, a large tattoo of a swan down his right arm, and piercing blue eyes, the camera held out and him winking down the lens.

They'd messaged for a few days. His name was Luke, he was from Dundrum, and he was a paralegal at a big firm in town. They had a few common interests, mostly the football and a liking for the kind of terrible inspirational sport movies Nicky would inevitably cry over and pretend he hadn't. He was funny, a bit flirty, and when he'd suggested a date Nicky had figured he'd give it a go.

He was about to fucking neck himself with the fork if Luke didn't shut up.

Nicky leaned his chin in his hand, nodding politely. He'd tried to get in on the conversation, early on, but after forty-five minutes of being interrupted, talked over, and having his input disregarded, he was really running out of patience.

“But you know, that's the business, I suppose. Like, I know she was grateful and it was nice to be able to do something for her, but I'd do the same for anyone else, and...”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. “So, if...”

“And people say, oh it must be a very important job, you know, but after a while you just get used to it. And then you realise how many people's lives you must have touched and it's...”

“I'm... going to the bar.” Nicky stood up. “You want anything?”

“Erm...” Luke looked down at his plate. It was barely touched. Not that his mouth had been free to get food in. “Dry Martini, straight up? Two olives, stirred dirty with gin.”

Nicky tried not to roll his eyes. Instead he nodded politely – again – and headed away, wondering if there was any chance he could just sprint for the door.

It was a nice place, actually. All wood panelling and clean space. The dining room smelled fantastic, like spices and warm bread. On the other side of the bar was a large sitting area, soft leather sofas and armchairs, cute vintage lighting spotted here and there. Both sides were packed, even though it was getting late on a Thursday night. Nicky had intended to have dinner earlier, but Luke had called to let him know he'd gotten stuck on a very important case and would have to postpone by an hour.

The bartender looked up as Nicky leaned over. He was cute, actually. Nicky's type. Dark hair, tallish, thick stubble that was almost a beard. He smiled. Nicky smiled back.

“What can I get ya?”

“Dry martini, straight up, two olives, stirred dirty, gin,” Nicky rattled off, prepared to repeat it if he had to. The bartender smirked, though, and started to scoop ice into a cup.

“And what are you having?”

“Erm... bourbon and coke,” Nicky decided. The bartender nodded. “How did you know it was for...”

“Had a feeling.” He grabbed a strainer. Nicky watched his hands move, a little fascinated. He'd always liked watching people do this stuff. Anything, really, if it was a skill he didn't have. He'd stopped for almost an hour the week before to watch a sand sculptor on the beach at Malahide, as shifting grains slowly turned into a large, detailed mermaid. “Date going well?”

“Mm...” Nicky sighed, saw blue eyes dance, teasing. “That obvious?”

“How bad?”

“I'm pretty sure he'd marry himself if he could.”

“I'm sure they'd be very happy together.” The martini landed on the bar. “Met a few of them in my time. Killing him's not an option?”

“A quality maiming probably wouldn't hurt. Except then he'd just have something else to talk about.” They both sniggered. Nicky's drink landed next to the martini. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I tipped a little extra in there, just in case you need some courage.”

“Appreciate it.” Nicky was about to go, but when he turned around Luke was still sat there, staring avidly at his phone and picking at his pasta. He turned back around. “I'm Nicky, by the way.”

“Mark.” Mark smiled. “Side door's that way, if you want to sneak out.”

“Don't tempt me,” Nicky sighed. Mark laughed. “Thanks again.”

“No bother.” Mark winked. “Have fun.”

 

*

 

Nicky's drink was gone really quickly. He wanted to get another one, partly because Luke was still fucking talking, and partly because every time he glanced over to the bar Mark would look up, smirk, and mime putting a noose around his neck. Nicky tried not to giggle. Though if he had, he was sure Luke wouldn't notice anyway. Or worse, would take it as encouragement.

“Dessert?”

It took Nicky a second to realise he'd actually been asked a question. He blinked, sitting up a little straighter.

“Sorry, what?”

“Do you want dessert?”

“Um.” Nicky looked down at his empty plate. Dessert did sound nice, but the idea of extending this date any further was more than he could bear. “Thank you. No. Early morning tomorrow.”

“Yeah, me too, actually. I have to get in at six to go over this really important...”

“That... sounds fascinating.” He glanced over at Mark again, but he was too caught up serving to look back. Nicky was a little disappointed. “I might go to the bathroom, actually? Do you want me to grab you another drink on the way back?”

Luke asked for the same again and Nicky trotted off before he could say anything else. Once he was in he found a urinal, resisting the urge to see if he could fit through the bathroom window. When he came out Luke was staring at his phone again. Nicky went back to the bar.

“Help,” he groaned. Mark laughed.

“So just tell him you're not interested.”

“Yeah...” Nicky glanced back over his shoulder. “Sure I can't kill him?”

“Don't do it in here, at least.” Mark glanced over too. “What are you having? Same again?” Nicky nodded. “Okay. Go back to your table. I'll bring them over.” Mark started scooping up ice. “See you in a minute.”

 

*

 

Nicky was still nodding politely when Mark wandered over, a tray of drinks in one arm. He looked better now that he was out from behind the bar. Very cute, a bit chubby, but in a bearish, sexy way that Nicky could definitely get involved in. He stopped in front of the table.

“Martini?” Luke raised his hand. Mark put it down. “Bourbon and coke?”

“Thanks.” Nicky looked up. Mark looked down. He smiled.

“Huh.” He put down Nicky's drink as well, crossing his arms. “Fancy seeing you again.”

“Sorry, do I know...?”

“Nicky, right? Through the agency?” Mark's cheeks were going a little pink. “We had a date last week.”

“Oh... yeah. Sorry.” Nicky tried to look baffled. Which worked well, because he was, a little, not sure where Mark was going with this.

“Sorry. You're probably on a job.” Mark glanced at Luke. “Wow, you sprung for the boyfriend experience? I just did the basic contract. I was looking at doing the dinner thing, but like, he's not exactly cheap, you know?"

“Um... I don't...” Luke was staring at Nicky. “We... met online.”

“Oh cool. Me too. Like, I've tried other escort services, but you guys are really classy.” He smiled at Nicky. “Hey, do you guys do like... group discounts? Just because I was telling a friend about you and we were looking at a threesome maybe? He's not into the hard drugs, though, so we might have to tone it down a bit. Stick to basic blow? I can bring my own.”

“I'll... have to check with my office,” Nicky managed, feeling completely weird playing along with this. Luke was already standing up, looking panicked. “Thanks for the feedback. Did you give me a rating on the site?”

“Five stars.” Mark winked. “Like, I've fucked some hookers in my time, but you're something else, you know? You're a lucky bastard tonight,” he said to Luke, punching him gently on the arm. “Anyway, you're busy. I'll just...”

“It's... fine,” Luke said. “I'm just going, anyway.”

“Oh... that's a shame.” Nicky looked at him. He looked panicked. Nicky wished that wasn't as funny as it was. “Can I call you again?”

“Erm... I'll call you.” Luke was already walking, right past the hostess and out the door. Nicky laughed. Mark grinned, cheeks going redder.

“How was that?”

“That was bloody brilliant!” Nicky clapped his hands, the laughter that had been bottled up for the last few minutes starting to take him over. Mark grinned. “I can't believe you did that!”

“Me either, actually.” He pressed his hands to his cheeks. “I'm blushing, aren't I?” Nicky nodded. “Ugh, I'm the worst for it. My ex used to make fun of me all the time.” His hands dropped back by his sides, revealing a face that was still red. “Sorry I called you a hooker.”

“Hey, we're called escorts.”

“My apologies.” Mark picked up the martini and slid it over in front of Nicky. “Here you go. Free wanker martini.”

“The best kind.” Nicky took a sip. “Arsehole ran off without paying, too.”

“Oops.” Mark glanced over his shoulder. “Didn't leave his wallet?”

“No...” Nicky sighed. “Oh well. At least I can order a dessert in silence.”

“True.” Mark laughed. “Or, well...” He went a little pink again. “I have to head back to the bar, but if you want some company there's a stool free?”

“Why, Mark,” Nicky drawled, leaning back in his chair and draining the glass. “You hitting on me?”

“No.” Mark's eyes were going shy, though. He fiddled with his shirt sleeve. “Be wrong, wouldn't it? I mean, you guys just broke up. Have to wait for the grieving period to be over before I try something like that.”

“You're a classy guy,” Nicky teased. Mark shrugged, smiling. “Well, in my experience the grieving lasts about as long as it takes to find me a slice of Nutella cheesecake.”

“Noted.” Mark took the glass. “I'll see what I can do.”

 

*

 

Mark was funny. Nicky sat at the bar, cheesecake in front of him. It was getting a little late, and within an hour the restaurant was closing down, everyone moving over to the lounge on the other side. Nicky went to pay the host for dinner but when he got over she gestured at Mark said it had been sorted. Nicky nodded at him gratefully, hopping up onto a stool in the lounge, watching Mark mix cocktails.

“What are you making?”

“This is a Pisco Sour.” Mark was cracking an egg. It looked bizarrely out of place at a bar. As Nicky watched he tipped the white in, then tossed the yolk and shell away. “Grape brandy, lemon juice, syrup. And the egg white, obviously.” He began to shake it, then poured it into a glass, handing it to the man waiting nearby. “South American drink. It's a house speciality. Hardly anyone around here knows how to make one.”

“Should I be impressed, then?”

“Don't know.” Mark chuckled. “Are you impressed?”

“Maybe.” Nicky leaned his chin in one hand, watching while Mark began to wipe down the bar while there was a moment free to breathe. “So what do you do when you're not being an impressive bartender?”

“Oh... I'm not a bartender.” Mark shook his head. Nicky was confused. “I mean, yeah, I tend sometimes when we're short, but...” He gestured around. “I um... own it. The bar.”

“You're shitting me.”

“No.” Mark shook his head. “It was... well, my great-uncle owned it, really. It was mostly a pub, then. Then when he retired my uncle got it, put in the restaurant, and now it belongs to me.”

“What about his kids?”

“Oh... his daughter wasn't really interested. She wanted to study medicine, and fair play to her, though she technically part-owns the place. My brothers, too. It's a family thing. I wasn't doing anything else, though. Didn't know what I wanted to do, actually, so I just ended up here. That was like... ten years ago.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-five.” Mark put down the cloth, leaned over to take another order. Nicky watched him start to draw a jug of beer. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-seven in October.” He supposed this was a mid-life crisis, going on Grindr dates and chatting up bartenders. Forty felt way too close. He thought he looked pretty good for his age, all things considered. He kept fit, watched his eating, though he wasn't at all averse to a pint and a good steak and chips

“What do you do, then?”

“Painting and decorating, mostly. My dad was in the trade, so I sort of followed him into it.”

“Is that what you wanted to do?”

“Sure. Yeah. I mean, when was eighteen I did the whole thing where I wanted to run off to Hollywood and become an actor. Did a couple of adverts, some amateur theatre. I still do work as an extra, here and there. When I miss it, you know?”

“How was my acting before?”

“Not bad. You really sold that scene.” They both laughed. “Good improv work. Off-script, you know?”

“My Oscar's in the post?”

“Carrier pigeon.” Nicky pushed his empty glass away. “Sort me out, barkeep?”

“What'll you have?”

“Ladies' choice.” Mark snorted, rolling his eyes. “Make me something... sexy.”

“A sexy cocktail?” They looked at each other. Nicky was sure Mark was blushing again, but it was hard to tell in the dimmed light. It was quieting down a little bit, the place almost empty. After one on a Friday morning. The hostess had left once the dinner service had ended, and now it was just he, Mark, and a couple of scattered people snuggled up together on the couches, talking quietly.

“What time do you close?”

“About ten minutes ago.” Mark grabbed a flute from under the bar and started to pour champagne. A sugar cube dropped in a moment later, some pink syrup, and a curl of orange rind. Nicky took it carefully. “Where you headed after this?” He was definitely blushing. Nicky smiled back, feeling the drinks warming in his stomach, his head spinning slightly.

“Dunno.” Nicky looked at the cocktail. “Suppose it depends how sexy this cocktail is.”

Mark leaned on the bar, watching him. Nicky took a sip.

It was fizzy, but very sweet, bubbles rushing straight to his head. Not that alcoholic, he supposed, but once he put the glass down he could feel it spreading through his limbs, relaxing him slowly. When he looked up, it was into questioning blue eyes.

“How's that?”

“Depends.” Nicky drained the rest of the glass. “How far is it to yours?”

Mark laughed, and went to kick people out.

 

*

 

Mark's flat was nice enough. Nicky didn't really see much of it, though, in fairness. Mark fumbled the hall light on, but by the time they staggered into the living room there wasn't much point. Not when they were joined at the lips, Mark trying to get Nicky's shirt off, Nicky trying to undo his belt. He landed on the sofa, laughing when Mark landed on top of him, yanking him up into another kiss.

“So sexy,” he heard Mark mutter. Nicky groaned and kissed him again. Soft lips parted easily, tasting slightly of cigarette smoke. Mark had lived just down the road, only a five minute walk, and Nicky was enormously grateful.

He really needed Mark's pants off.

“Want you,” Nicky gasped, heard Mark groan. The kiss was more intense, suddenly. His shirt came off awkwardly, was flung at the coffee table. Nicky grabbed the hem of Mark's, yanking it up. God yes. Raking his hands through chest hair, feeling the bump of nipples. Teeth nipped at his mouth.

“Bedroom,” Mark said. Nicky agreed. He was yanked to his feet a moment later, towed down a short hallway into a neat bedroom. He was tackling Mark to the mattress within a second, their mouths locked and hands all over each other. Mark grappled at his trousers, Nicky grappled back, both of them giggling when they got a bit stuck. He got Mark's belt open and slithered down, burying his face in the musky smell of hot flesh, nosing at the slight belly. Mark groaned, arching up.

It was good down here. He tugged at Mark's belt, mouthing at the base of a thick cock, sliding lower as he pulled the jeans down. It popped free a second later, swollen and leaking, and Nicky moaned, sucked in the head, his fingers finding the root and squeezing it, guiding it in deeper.

“Fuck...” Mark hissed in a breath. Nicky moaned again. He tasted good. Better than good. “Oh Jesus, Nicky...” His hips lifted, a spastic jolt. Nicky took it. “That's...”

He pulled off, hand taking over while he licked over tightening balls. Mark was gorgeous, trimmed close, his cock comfortable and angry in Nicky's grip. He felt it twitch, heard Mark whimper, and bent down again, making slow circles around the head, listening to Mark's breath speed up.

“Nicky...” Nicky climbed back up, hand still working fast through slick spit, and yanked Mark into a kiss, felt him suck back, mouth desperate and hot against his own. Hips jerked. Once. Twice. A soft cry rumbled against his mouth.

“Fuck yes,” Nicky whispered. He was drunk. Didn't care. It had been a while, and this man was very sexy, seemed to be really into him, and was making the kinds of sounds Nicky wanted to carry inside him, at least until he was sober and could appreciate that this was probably a mistake.

He ducked back down, took Mark in again. Within a minute Mark was growling, hips moving hard and fast while Nicky stroked him, lips fixed around the head, the shaft slipping through his grip. He sucked, twisted his wrist, and heard a hungry whine.

“Yes...” Mark gasped. “Yes... oh...”

Nicky swallowed. It was too late to do anything else, and Mark felt _good_. Salty slick, gasping cries, Nicky gulping fast, some spilling out the sides but most going straight down. He pulled away when it felt like Mark was done and began climbing up, slowly kissing up a strong chest on the way.

“Mm...” he murmured. Mark was still looking dazed.

“Fucking hell.”

Nicky kissed up Mark's neck, feeling the pulse race under the surface. He was getting urgent himself, especially when a hand skated up his thigh and closed over the bulge trapped in his unzipped jeans, Mark still breathing fast. He moaned and buried his face in Mark's shoulder. He was rolled over a moment later, squealing in surprise and delight when Mark landed on top of him.

Mark smirked. Nicky bit his lip, watching dark blue eyes watch him back. Mark's hand moved faster. Nicky groaned. Then Mark began to slither down and...

Oh.

God, yes.

Nicky closed his eyes and hung on for the ride.

 

*****

 

It was early morning when Nicky got to the site. He'd been working here for a few weeks. It was a good, consistent job – a new office building just gone up on the outskirts of Dublin. Within half an hour he was up a ladder in a stairwell, a paintbrush in one hand, his other braced on the slanted ceiling above his head.

He'd left Mark about two hours before, snuck out just after three in the morning. He'd had a quick post-sex shower and clean up, then left while Mark had still been in the shower himself, not wanting the awkward one night stand goodbye.

Because it had been a one night stand. Mark was funny, of course. Sweet. A really fun lad to talk to, but Nicky had been drunk, had just come off a shitty date, and had a feeling that fucking Mark had more to do with feeling a bit better about himself and less to do with a real connection. Not that he'd fucked Mark so much as Mark had fucked him, but that had still been extremely pleasant, going hard and fast, him clawing at Mark's back, yanking him in deeper while Mark had grunted into his ear and taken him on the bed.

Now he felt used, sore, and hungover.

And there might have been a skip in his step.

The stairwell only took a few hours. By the time he took a break for morning tea he was ready to pass out. He'd managed almost two hour's sleep, knew he looked tragic, but then he was getting covered in paint and sawdust so it wasn't like he was skipping down a runway. He just wanted to go home, crash out for about twelve hours, and stare at the TV a bit.

He checked his phone while he ate. Two more matches on Grindr. They were both nice looking lads, so he shot them both a quick message and then went to check his Twitter, staring blankly as tweets scrolled past.

For a second he thought about going back to the bar that night, seeing if maybe he could get himself a round two.

By the time he got home for dinner he was too exhausted to think about it.

By the end of the week he'd almost forgotten it had even happened, except that it was kind of a funny story for later, when he had someone to tell.


	2. Chapter 2

Nicky yawned, kicking his feet up on the end of the sofa and wondering if it was pathetic to have another nap. He'd already had one that morning, had woken up, made breakfast, then nodded off for half an hour or so. It was getting into the afternoon now and another one sounded absolutely fantastic.

He wondered if this was what getting old was like, then realised he didn't give a fuck. Nobody was around to see, anyway. He was an adult. He'd have a second nap if he wanted to.

He turned the TV down, closed his eyes, and stretched slightly. It was a warm afternoon for October. The windows had been a little frosted when he'd gotten up that morning, but the sun had come out by the time he'd woken the first time, and now, snuggled up under a blanket on the sofa, some terrible sitcom repeat on the telly, there were a lot of worse places to be.

His phone rang. A sudden, loud trill. Nicky groaned, burying his face in the cushion and wondering if he absolutely had to answer it. It could be work, though, he supposed. He'd just finished a job the week before and was hoping for a new one. Though the few days off had been nice.

He fumbled the phone off the coffee table. Unknown number. He sighed, lifting it to his ear.

“Nicky Byrne.”

There was a moment of silence. Nicky stretched back out on the couch, closing his eyes again.

“Hello?”

“Ehm... hi.” A soft voice, deep, with a hint of regional accent. “Nicky?”

“That's me. Who's this?”

“Erm. You probably don't even remember me but... Mark? I own that bar at...”

“Oh my god, yeah.” Nicky chuckled in sudden realisation, opening his eyes. God, that had been a night, almost three months ago. He'd been hungover all day, had done the job with a slight limp in his step where they'd gone too hard, too fast. He couldn't even remember much of it really, or even if it had been all that good. Though the performance beforehand, scaring off that Luke wanker, had been bloody genius. “How are you?”

“I'm... yeah. I'm okay.” There was something odd in Mark's voice. Something hesitant, like tears that had stopped but not yet been forgotten. “Sorry to call you. I... suppose you didn't really expect to hear from me again, but...” He let out a soft, shuddering breath. “Look. Ehm. Can we... meet up somewhere maybe? Like... today or tomorrow if you're free?”

“I guess so.” Nicky glanced at his watch. It was only one in the afternoon, and he didn't have to be anywhere the next day. “I can come round the bar tonight, I suppose.”

“That'd be... yeah. If you could.”

“What's this about?” It didn't sound like a date, somehow. Mark sounded almost pleading. Nicky didn't know what to think, but he had to admit that he was intrigued.

“Can we talk about it when you get here? It's just... it's a lot of stuff at once and...”

“Okay.” Nicky sat up slightly. “Is everything alright?”

“I don't want to talk about it over the phone.” Mark sighed. “I don't know. I can come to you, if it's easier?”

“No. I mean, I'm not doing anything. I can...” He checked his watch again. “Two hours?”

“Two hours.” Mark paused. Nicky felt his stomach knot. “So... see you then.”

“See you then.” The phone went dead. Nicky put it back on the coffee table, thinking a nap was out of the question now.

He went to shower and got dressed. It wasn't until he was almost out the door, an hour and a half later, that he suddenly wondered how Mark had gotten his phone number.

 

*

 

The bar was closed when he got there, the door locked. He knocked gently, trying to peer through the frosted glass. The sign on the door said they opened at four. Nicky knocked again.

He heard two clicks as the locks at the top and bottom of the door were undone. Then it swung open and Mark was stood there, in jeans and a jacket. He looked more or less the same, though he'd shaved at some point and while he was stubbly the beard was mostly gone. His hair was a little longer, too, looked messier where before it had been raked back in a short quiff.

“Hi.” He was blushing already. Nicky had forgotten about that. “Thanks for coming.”

“It's fine.” Nicky glanced past him. It was neat inside, a little dim without all the lights on. He hadn't been back here. It was on the other side of town, just far enough away to be inconvenient, though the décor hadn't changed.

Mark ushered him in, asked if he wanted a drink. Nicky accepted a pint. He had to drive back, didn't want to be over the limit. They sat down at the table. Mark drew a pint as well, though he didn't touch it. Nicky watched condensation trickle down the glass as he took a sip of his own.

“So... this is probably unexpected, right?” Mark scratched the back of his neck, looking up furtively. “You know. One night stand, calling out of the blue?”

“It wasn't really how I saw my day going,” Nicky admitted.

“No. Me either. Ehm...” Mark took a deep breath. His eyes looked frightened. Nicky didn't know what to do with that. “Anyway. I... I have to tell you something and I didn't want to do it over the phone. So...” He took another deep breath, cheeks going redder. “Okay. So. I guess... the first thing to say is that I didn't know, okay? I didn't. I get tested every nine months, I don't really sleep around... I'm always safe. Always. But...”

“Safe?” Nicky didn't like where this was going. Not at all. “Yeah. I mean, me too. Like... I got tested...” He tried to think. It had been a little while, he'd been meaning to make an appointment. “I think it was just before last Christmas? I'm due for another one.”

“Yeah. Absolutely. Like, better to be safe and all that.” Mark nodded. “Um... so.” He exhaled slowly. “Okay. So... I've just found out I'm HIV positive.”

Nicky blinked.

Mark stared at the table, hands folded in front of him.

“You're... what?”

“You're... you're probably fine. But they just found it and seeing as the rapids are only ninety-five percent accurate they think it might have been... longer. Like, I got tested nine months ago, but maybe it was wrong, so for safety's sake we're having to assume eighteen months and like, I haven't really felt sick or anything so I didn't think... I... I just have to let you know, you know? So if you need to get tested, or...”

“Oh.” Nicky's throat felt like it was closing. His nails were digging too hard into his palms. Mark looked up, eyes flat and frightened.

“I'm really sorry.”

“Oh.”

“I didn't know.”

“Oh.” Nicky unclenched his hands carefully, picking up the pint. He downed half of it in four great swallows that caught in his throat. Put it back down on the bar, his hands shaking. “Oh god.”

“You're probably fine. We used a condom.”

“I... I swallowed, didn't I?” Nicky felt numb. He remembered that, barely, alcohol and six months of distance between then and now.

“It's really unlikely you'd...”

“I'm going to be sick.”

He was. Mark pointed towards the toilets, and Nicky ran. He ended up over the bowl, heaving up his pint and what was left of his breakfast, tears stinging his eyes. He half waited for Mark to follow him in, to ask if he was okay, but a few minutes later he was still on his own. He wiped his mouth, feeling like he wanted to be sick all over again, and pushed himself to his feet, leaning against the door and trying to calm his breathing.

Fuck.

Oh fuck.

He covered his face with his hands, then raked them up, pushing his hair away from his forehead. Calm. One thing at a time. He was probably okay. He'd go get a test, they'd tell him it was fine, and...

Fuck.

 

*

 

When he came back out Mark was sitting at the table, his beer still untouched, head in his hands. Nicky paused in the doorway. Mark hadn't realised he'd come out yet, he didn't think, and Nicky watched him sag as he let out a deep breath, shoulders shaking slightly. He felt suddenly sorry for him. Angry, yes. Terrified too. As he watched Mark sat back up, scrubbing the back of his hand across his nose. Nicky began to walk back to the table.

He sat down. Mark looked up, eyes glassy. Nicky swallowed.

“Okay.”

“Yeah,” Mark breathed, looking away again. “I don't know what to tell you.”

“I... don't know either,” Nicky admitted. “Shit, Mark.”

“I never meant...”

“I know.” He wanted to know that Mark had, so at least he could shout at him. Mark looked pale, though, his cheeks blotchy with blush, and Nicky didn't know how to. It felt unfair. It was unfair that it was unfair, when all he wanted to do was blame someone, flip over a table, and storm out, but Mark was too quiet, head bowed over the table.

“I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah.” Nicky swallowed. “I'll... go get tested then.”

“Let me know, okay? Please?”

“I will.” Nicky bit his lip. “It's Sunday, right? I can probably get an appointment tomorrow.”

“My doctor's really good. I can call them if you want?”

“No.” You've done enough. It went unsaid. Mark nodded. “Fucking hell.”

“Yeah.” Mark looked small. Nicky stood up, leaving the rest of his beer on the table. “I'm sorry.”

 

*

 

The drive home was a complete blur.

Nicky called the doctor while he drove, though he couldn't remember entirely what he'd said. He got an appointment. Eight in the morning, as early as possible. It felt too soon. If he had a rapid done he could probably have the results within the hour. Less than twenty-four hours away. The idea felt awful, that at some point far too close to this one he could find out he was...

That he was...

He pulled into his driveway, turned off the ignition, and yanked up the handbrake. Then he froze, hands settling back on the steering wheel, shaking slightly and gripping too tight. He tipped his head back against the headrest, trying his best to think.

They'd used a condom. That was probably the first thing he needed to remember. Yeah, okay, they'd blown each other, but that didn't mean anything. Unless Nicky had had a cut or something in his mouth it wasn't an issue. Bit of cum, no biggie. He'd swallowed before, with previous boyfriends, actually didn't mind doing it, and anyway, wasn't it supposed to be safer than spitting? Straight down and dissolved in your stomach instead of sitting around in your mouth waiting to get into your gums?

That sounded like a good idea to go with, so he tacked that one up in the jumbled corkboard of his mind, trying to hold onto it even though it was probably a myth or something. Like if you fucked on a girl's period you wouldn't get her pregnant, or that you went blind from jacking it too often.

Still. Condom.

He was probably okay.

Mark wasn't, though. He'd looked fine. A bit dishevelled and anxious, but physically he'd looked basically the same. And yeah, Nicky knew that most people got along fine even if they did have it, were probably healthier in some cases because they took care of themselves.

It didn't stop the idea that...

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to him.

Not to him.

 

*

 

The waiting room was busy. Nicky's appointment had been ten minutes ago and he still hadn't been called, though there were a couple of kids shrieking their heads off while their mother looked obliviously at her phone. It wasn't helping his nerves at all. He covered his ears with both hands, trying to hold himself together.

He hadn't slept well at all. He'd made dinner, forcing himself to put together a sandwich, but in the end he hadn't been able to eat it. It had gone in the fridge, wrapped in clingfilm, with the intention of having it for breakfast. Then he'd lain awake half the night, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember every single person he'd had sex with since Mark.

There weren't that many. He'd gone on a few more dates with people he'd met online, but he'd only slept with two, and only then after the second or third dates. They'd been nice enough lads, but there'd been no particular chemistry so it had fizzled out. The rest had turned out to be not his type at all.

It was a bit pathetic, really. Thirty-seven years old and he was still being picky. It wasn't intentional. He'd been in a couple of relationships in his twenties, but in the last few years it had all just seemed too hard. Maybe because he was getting older, a bit set in his ways, too resistant to letting other people into his life. His house was his own, and he'd been paying off the mortgage steadily for the better part of a decade. He'd always been self-sufficient, though. Relying on other people felt a bit too much like giving up control unnecessarily when he was doing just fine by himself, thank you very much.

A doctor came out. Nicky looked up hopefully, but he waved the mother and her shrieking progeny in first, the girl still yanking on her sleeve and demanding a sweet. It was a bit quieter after that, at least.

But of all the things he'd thought he'd be doing alone, sitting in a doctor's office and thinking he might be sick was not one of them. He'd thought about calling someone to come with him. His mother maybe. It was the first time in a long time that he'd wanted her to hold his hand, tell him it was fine, but she couldn't protect him from this. He couldn't do it, anyway. He couldn't call her up and give her that news, worry her like that. Not without knowing for sure.

His sister and brother were the same. His friends... he had friends. Guys he'd go drinking with after work. They weren't the kind of friends you brought to find out if you had HIV. They were people you knew, who were a good laugh, but who if you didn't see them for six months you wouldn't feel the loss of.

He wondered, idly, who Mark had taken with him.

Whether he had at all. Or whether he'd been sat, just like this. On his own in a doctor's waiting room, terrified and wishing someone could be there for him.

Though of course it hadn't been like that. Mark had probably been calm. Had probably expected to do a quick in and out and get the all clear.

Nicky wondered how long ago that had been. Whether he'd had someone to sit with him afterwards, whether he'd sat alone in the doctor's office with the news squatting on his back, pushing all the air out of his lungs. Trying not to throw up, just like Nicky was now, wondering whether this was the worst day of his whole life, or this just spelled the beginning of a thousand worse days to come.

A nurse called his name. He looked up.

“I'm sorry, Mr Byrne. The doctor's a little delayed. Shouldn't be more than another twenty minutes.”

He thanked her. Looked back down at his hands, searching in them for answers they couldn't give.

He reached for his phone.

 

*

 

Mark arrived twenty-five minutes later. Nicky still hadn't gone in. It had felt hours, the time stretching out forever, heavy and ragged with worry. He looked up when he felt presence beside him and managed a grateful smile.

Mark sat down.

“Sorry. I didn't know who else to...”

“It's fine.” Mark leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Nicky leaned next to him. “You okay?”

“No.” Nicky barked a laugh. Mark nodded. “No. Definitely not. I just...” He exhaled slowly, trying to slow his heart. “No.”

“You haven't gone in yet?”

“Not yet. Bastards are keeping me waiting.” He glanced around. It was getting quieter in here, now. He had to be up soon. “When did you find out?”

“Three days ago,” Mark sighed. “I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. I wanted to call as soon as possible. I didn't think...” His voice trembled slightly. “I think this is the worst part, actually, telling other people.”

“Who else have you told?”

“No one, yet. There's about... five other people on the list, I think? I don't want to tell them over the phone. That's what I was doing today, actually. Packing up the car. Gonna leave tomorrow night, go for a drive, try to speak to them all if I can. It feels like the kind of thing to do in person.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“It's okay.” Mark bit his lip. “I think I'm still in shock. My doctor gave me a whole bunch of pamphlets but I couldn't read them. Any of them. I just stared at the pictures but all the words kept going blurry. Maybe I don't want to read them. I don't want to know...”

Nicky looked up as his name was called.

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

“Yes please,” Nicky admitted. Mark stood up first. Nicky couldn't. They called his name again. Mark reached out a hand, helping him up.

The doctor seemed a nice sort, though it wasn't his usual doctor. Nicky explained that he wanted to get the test. The doctor asked if his boyfriend was getting one too, glancing at Mark. They didn't bother to correct him. Nicky just said he had a few worries about a recent encounter and wanted to be sure. They took blood, told him it'd be half an hour, and then he was back out to the waiting room. It all felt a bit of a blur.

He remembered, suddenly, what he'd meant to ask.

“How did you find my number, anyway?”

Mark blushed.

“Ehm... might have checked the booking at the restaurant?” Nicky nodded. “Sorry. I know it's like... personal information and that, but...”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Nicky finished. Mark nodded. “Well, it's a good thing I made the booking. You might have ended up talking to Wanker Martini.”

“Thank god.” Mark grimaced. “He's come in again, you know? Twice. Different lads, both times.”

“You're kidding?”

“No. I don't think he recognised me, really, but his head was so far up his own arse I don't think he saw much but his own shit.”

Nicky laughed. Mark did too, after a blushing moment.

“Well, it's nice to know his love life's going worse than mine.”

“At least you got laid.”

“Yeah.” They both sobered, looking at each other. Mark groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Nicky patted his shoulder, not sure how to comfort this man or even if he should bother. A part of him still hated Mark. A part of him never had. He couldn't for a second think that he'd meant any of this. It didn't make it any easier. “Well, maybe it'll be alright.”

“I hope so.” Mark pulled one hand away, leaning his head in the other so he could look at Nicky. “You skipped out on me.”

“Yeah.” Nicky shifted awkwardly. “Figured that was it, you know? Didn't want to do the uncomfortable goodbye.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” The doctor came back out, but he called someone else in. They both sagged. “I don't... usually do that. Pick people up at work? Bit unprofessional, but you were a good laugh and I liked you, so..."

“Thanks.”

“Cute, too.” A bashful smile quirked the corner of Mark's mouth.

“Thanks.”

“Mm.”

“Mm.” Nicky leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. “What happens now?”

“We wait for the doctor.”

“Yeah, but like... with you.” He heard Mark breathe for a long moment, soft.

“I don't know,” Mark sighed. “Suppose to go on medication. I've got a doctor's appointment tomorrow to go over everything. It just... doesn't feel real, you know? Like, how can it be? How could I be...” He trailed off. Nicky cracked open one eye, saw a face turned down towards tapping feet, hands fidgeting over each other. “It can't be real.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorrier.” Mark blinked at his feet, eyes glassy. “I don't even know how it happened. I'm always safe, I haven't given blood or anything. I don't have any tattoos or piercings and I don't do drugs. How could it...?” He sighed. “Guess that's the thing. I'll never know.”

“Unless one of your boyfriends turns out to be positive.”

“Even then, though. How do I know if he gave it to me or if it was the other way around?” Nicky shrugged. He didn't know. “I've got this thing, now, and I'll never know why or how. It doesn't seem fair.”

Nicky didn't know how to reply to that, so he just closed his eyes again and tried to make time go faster.

 

*

 

It was forty minutes later that the doctor called them in. Mark sat down beside him, and in a blind moment of panic Nicky reached out and grabbed his hand. Mark squeezed back, almost too hard. Nicky took a deep breath.

The doctor sat down, picked up a piece of paper.

“Okay, so.”

Nicky squeezed Mark's hand tighter.

“The results have come back negative for HIV.”

“Oh god,” Nicky breathed. He felt the hand in his loosen, saw Mark sag slightly with relief. “Oh thank god.” He laughed, couldn't help it. Pulled his hand away and put it over his mouth, the other one on his racing heart, feeling it thud against his palm. “So I'm not...?”

“I'd recommend coming back in three months for a follow-up check, but all in all I'd say you were in the clear.”

Nicky laughed again. He felt a hand touch his shoulder and looked over to see Mark smiling at him, sadness in the corners of his eyes.

They left the doctor's office a few minutes later. Mark's car was parked right next to his, a silver Range Rover, and they paused in the parking lot, leaned against their individual cars. Nicky didn't know what to say, exactly.

“Congratulations,” Mark offered.

“Thanks. For coming. I um...”

“Looks like we needn't have gone through all that panic after all.”

“I guess not.” Nicky's heart was still racing. “I'm getting tested once a week for the rest of my life, though. Jesus. Talk about a scare.” Mark nodded apologetically. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Mark shrugged. “I guess. I'll get on the road tomorrow evening. Got a couple of stops to make. Should be in Sligo by Wednesday or Thursday.”

“Sligo?”

“My ex-boyfriend,” Mark explained. “I grew up there. We broke up years ago, but last year we...” He went a little pink. “You know. Old time's sake. I know things went badly, but he was still my first love. I wouldn't want to do it over the phone.”

“And the others?”

“Two in Dublin.” Mark ticked them off on his fingers. “No idea where they live. One was a one night stand. The other one was a guy I went on a couple of dates with, but I never went to his place. We ended up back at mine, and a few weeks later it just... died out. Then there's a guy who was in town for a few nights last year, but I think he lives in Galway, so I'm going to try to track him down on Facebook. Then this guy I was dating for about six months. Just before we...” He gestured weakly between the two of them. “I've gotta get the ferry to London for him, so I'll probably sort that out last. And yeah, you make six.”

“I'm flattered.”

Mark snorted. “Well, at least you're off the list.”

“Yeah.” Nicky looked at him a moment longer, not sure what to say. How to say goodbye after the last two days. “I hope it turns out alright.”

“Thanks. I'd better...” Mark reached for his door handle, was sliding in a moment later. He wound down the window. “Let me know if anything changes, okay? With your three months?”

“I will,” Nicky promised. The window wound up. Nicky climbed into his own car. Pulled out.

By the time he pulled out Mark still hadn't turned the ignition, and when Nicky drew past he saw a slumped silhouette in the driver's seat, face buried in shaking hands.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Nicky slept a little better that night. Once he got home he dug out the sandwich he hadn't eaten the day before and inhaled the whole thing, suddenly ravenous, then called his mam. Just to say hi. She sounded a little surprised, but pleased, and they ended up chatting for almost an hour. He told her he loved her before he hung up the phone, and even though he said it every time he thought he meant it more than he ever had.

Then he had a long shower, scrubbing off all the panic and uncertainty from the last couple of days. When he got out he was almost raw from the hot water. He felt better, though. Then he put on his most comfortable pyjamas and sank down in front of the television to watch a solid hour of absolute crap, a beer in his hand. Then another one. By the time he went to bed he felt almost good.

He woke up late the next morning. He went to the kitchen with the intent of making a fry up. Something stupid and indulgent that he wouldn't allow himself on a regular day. He got a call letting him know they'd just picked up a new contract for a shopping complex. Big project, could be a few months, and could he be on site on the fourteenth? He said absolutely. That gave him a week of freedom, unless something came up, and a steady paycheck to look forward to.

Everything was pretty fantastic.

He wondered what Mark was doing.

It was a thought that nagged at him all morning. He'd said he was going to the doctor to get things sorted out, then starting this road trip thing. Nicky supposed it was good of him. Doing it in person. Hearing the news hadn't exactly been comforting, but he knew it would have been worse had Mark called him or, shit, just texted him or something. It hadn't been an easy conversation, couldn't be easy to do five more times.

He ate his breakfast on the sofa, trying not to drop anything on the floor while his eyes were trained on his phone, thumb flicking up through his Facebook feed. He'd been invited to an event on the weekend, just some piss-up with one of the lads from work. He hit Maybe, then started to check his email.

He wondered what Mark was doing.

He felt sorry for him, after yesterday. Off to the doctor's, probably to sit alone while they basically told him how his life was going to be now. He'd been all prepared to hate the guy for doing this to him, but Mark had seemed as confused and surprised as anyone. He hadn't done anything wrong, anything Nicky hadn't been guilty of himself. He hadn't been tested in almost a year, had shagged guys in the meantime. It wasn't supposed to happen if you were being careful. Probably didn't all that often.

But that had to be awful. Being alone like that. Nicky was the only one who knew, apparently. It was a pretty humbling burden to bear. He wondered what Mark's family was like, if it was something he could tell them. If he had friends who would understand.

By the time his breakfast was gone, Nicky thought he'd already made a decision on what to do next.

He threw on some clothes, grabbed his keys, and headed for the car.

 

*

 

The bar was closed again, obviously. It was just after noon, the place looking strangely desolate in the day time, all shut up and empty, not at all the inviting, cheerful place he'd been to that night three months ago. He knocked on the door, waited, then knocked again.

He tried to remember where Mark had lived. It had been close by, but that had been a long time ago. He couldn't even remember which direction they'd gone. He'd been drunk on the way there, had almost fallen asleep in the Uber the morning after, not paying much attention to the streets they were passing as long as he got home safe.

He reached for his phone and scrolled through his last calls, trying to find the number he'd called back the day before.

“Nicky?”

He looked around. Mark was stood behind him in jeans and a sweater, leather jacket tugged over the top. He looked cute, cheeks red in the cold and hair a little messy in the slight misty rain that had started to fall an hour or so before.

“Hi.”

“...hi.” Mark looked confused. Nicky wished he had any answers. “This is a surprise.”

“I know. I just...” Nicky sighed. Mark came closer, sidling into the doorway with him, out of the rain. “I thought I'd see if you wanted someone to come to the doctor with you?”

“Oh. I...” A small smile, bashful and nervous. “You didn't have to.”

“I just thought...” Nicky grimaced. “Look, it was shitty being by myself yesterday, and it was nice of you to come hang out with me. I was about to lose it.”

“Yeah, I know what that's like,” Mark said softly. Nicky nodded. “That was different. I sort of put you in that position, you know? It was my fault.”

“It wasn't. I mean... it could have just as easily been the other way round.”

“It wasn't, though.” There were keys in Mark's hand. Nicky glanced at them. “I've got one of the lads meeting me here so I can give him the keys before I head to the clinic.”

“You tell him?”

“No. Just that I'm going away for a week or so.” The keys jangled when Mark hefted them awkwardly. “I don't...” He sighed. “I don't know. How can I explain it to anyone when I can't explain it to myself? My family know I'm gay, but I think mam's always been a bit nervous. That something like this would happen. And I always thought that was a bit of a stereotype, like. Tried to explain to her that it wasn't like that, not any more, not if you're careful. Guess I proved her right.”

“It was an accident.”

“I know.” Mark hefted the keys again. “Would you tell your family?”

“I don't know,” Nicky admitted. “Yes. Probably. Eventually. I did think about calling my mam when you told me, but I couldn't do that to her. Not until I knew. And at least now I don't have to.” He touched Mark's shoulder gently. “Let me come with you, okay? You shouldn't do this by yourself.”

“Why do you care?”

“Why do you? I skipped out on you after a fuck, and you still bothered to call me, just in case.”

“I wouldn't have...” Mark went pink. “What if that's what happened to me? What if someone caught it, and whoever gave it to them didn't bother to let them know? What if you gave it to someone else? Because of me.”

“I didn't, though.” The rain started coming down properly. Nicky shrank back under the doorway a little to shield himself. Mark did too, both of them squashed together. “Do you want me to come or not?”

“I...” Mark hesitated, looking furtively at Nicky from the corner of his eye. A hand brushed his. “That'd be nice, actually,” he said finally. “Thank you.”

 

*

 

Mark's replacement wandered up a few minutes later. Mark handed over the keys. Brian looked at Nicky curiously but didn't comment when Mark mumbled 'this is Nicky' and left it at that. He got the impression that Brian had done all of this before a hundred times, as he just unlocked the door, flicked on the lights without having to look where the switch was, and keyed the number into the alarm without much thought.

Mark still explained everything, though he sounded nervous, like he was babbling a little bit. He sounded like a man with a secret, and Brian looked at him strangely a few times. They left him to it. The appointment wasn't for an hour, so Nicky drove Mark back to his flat, parking on the street and following him upstairs.

He hadn't been here since that night. It looked the same, though the living room had been rearranged a little bit.

There was a suitcase propped near the door. Nicky sank down on the sofa, glancing at it.

“What's the plan, then?” He gestured at the luggage.

“Oh, erm...” Mark looked over at it too. “I have a list.” He tore the front page off a pad of shopping lists stuck to the fridge. It was cute, ringed with little blue music notes and microphones. Nicky peered at it.

“You're organised.” There was a numbered list there; names and locations. “Number one,” he read, “Andy Summers, Blanchardstown.”

“He works at the cinemas in the shopping centre.” Mark sat down next to him, peering over his shoulder. “I don't know where he lives. We only went out three times.”

“Third date lucky?”

“Something like that.” Mark nodded. “Figured I'd just go there, see if I could talk to him? Not as good as doing it at home or whatever, but I didn't know what else to do. I deleted his phone number after we stopped dating.”

Nicky's finger drifted down the list. “Neil.”

“One night stand. I don't even know his last name, actually. Almost didn't remember his first name. Don't know where to start with that one. Can't just type Neil into Facebook.”

“True.” Nicky tilted his head a little, trying to think. “Don't remember anything else about him?”

“Not really.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“Some nightclub on Harry Street. I'm not a club person, but one of the lads at the bar was having a buck's night, so...” He shrugged. “We didn't even go home, we just ended up shagging in the toilets.”

“Not a lot to go on.”

“No.”

“Did he check in at the club on Facebook or anything?”

“Couldn't tell you.”

Nicky grabbed his phone, flicking to Facebook. “Which club?”

“Um... the Left Foot?” Nicky tapped in the name. “It would have been around September last year. He said he went there a lot.”

“Cool.” He began to scroll through the reviews. He didn't often leave reviews of places, but you never knew, did you? Especially if the guy was a regular. He was halfway through the October entries when he saw a Neil. He tapped on the picture and held it up. “This him?”

“Could be.” Mark tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Can you go to his page?”

Nicky nodded, and opened it up. It was a reasonable cute young man, only about twenty-two or so, blonde hair and glasses. The page was private, but he'd checked in at the Left Foot three times in the last month, all on Fridays.

“I think that's him. Like, I was drunk, but he seems familiar.”

“You slut.”

“Like you can talk,” Mark shoved him gently, laughing. “I wasn't the one who did the cut and run.”

“At least you took me home,” Nicky retorted. Mark nudged him again. “Send him a message?”

“I wouldn't know what to say.”

“I thought the whole point was to talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Mark sighed. He looked at the picture again, chewing his lip. When he finally spoke, his voice was hesitant. “Maybe it's not him. Maybe...” He squinted.

“It's him.”

“It is,” Mark admitted. “Right, so.” He took the list from Nicky's hand. “Neil Lindsay. Address?”

“Doesn't give one. He's at university, though. DCU. Doing his honors in International Relations. Maybe we can track him down there.” He watched Mark jot that down, then took the list back from unresisting hands. “Okay, number three. Stephen Ackleston. Galway.”

“That's as far as I got. Couldn't find him on Facebook. Nothing came up.”

“Tried Twitter, Instagram?”

“Tried everything,” Mark sighed. “It's not like I can knock on every door in Galway.”

“Number four, Kian Egan.”

“Ex-boyfriend. Sligo.”

“How long were you guys together?”

“Six years. Just out of highschool, sort of thing. We broke up when I was twenty-five, but I went home for a wedding last year and we ran into each other. Started catching up, and we just...” He shrugged.

“That one'll be easy at least.”

“Yeah. Easy.” Mark snorted. “You haven't met Kian.”

“Bad breakup?”

“Yes. No. He cheated on me with our best friend.”

“Ouch.”

“They broke up two months later.”

“Good. Serves them right.” Nicky tapped the last entry. “Kevin McDaid. London.”

“Dated him for six months. He moved to London for work. We keep in touch, sort of. I know his address.”

“Nicky Byrne.”

“Number six.” His own name had a line through it. He stared at that line for a long moment. “You got to be first.”

“Why?”

“I don't know,” Mark admitted. “Maybe because I had your number? I don't know. I just...” He glanced at Nicky. “I'm glad you were first, if it helps. You've been really cool about this. I think if you'd flown off the handle I would've chickened out on telling the others.”

“I threw up.”

“You didn't shout or punch me.”

“Believe me, I wanted to,” Nicky laughed bitterly. Mark nodded solemnly. “Might have done some swearing in the car on the way home.”

“I... wouldn't be surprised.” Mark took the list, folded it up, and put it in his wallet. He glanced at his watch. “We'd better go, anyway. Beat the traffic. If you want we can take your car, then you can drop me back here so I can head out to the cinema? I was going to head to Sligo after that, but I might try the college instead. Two birds while I'm still in Dublin, sort of thing.” Nicky didn't know why, but for a moment he got the distinct feeling that Mark was avoiding the Sligo trip, or at least delaying it.

He didn't ask, though. That was Mark's business.

 

*

 

They were ushered inside after only ten minutes, which was a relief as it appeared that shrieking children were fairly universal as far as waiting rooms went. They didn't really talk much, hadn't on the drive over. Mark had been wrapped up in his own head, though Nicky had taken the opportunity to flick through Mark's brochures while they waited.

They had jarringly comforting titles. _Approaching Positivity with Positivity; Health, Happiness & HIV._ They were all very upbeat, very cheerful and optimistic, like this was just a neat thing that was happening to you, like getting a new haircut or something. Except Nicky saw a woman in the waiting room look up, see what he was reading, and quickly move over to the other side of the room. He didn't think Mark had noticed. Hoped he hadn't.

The doctor had a lot to say about a lot of things. It took a while. About diet, exercise, keeping healthy. Even weird things about being careful with food preparation so Mark wouldn't catch anything. He said Mark needed to lose ten pounds. Mark didn't comment, though he went a little pink. By the time he got to vitamin supplements and maybe taking up yoga, Mark's hand had slipped into Nicky's. It didn't let go. By the time they started talking about liver damage and reducing alcohol intake he could feel the slickness of the hand in his, a cold sweat beading between their palms.

“Can...” Mark exhaled slowly as the doctor started talking about seeing a psychiatrist, maybe. “Sorry, can we break for a minute? Just for a minute?” He looked pale. The doctor nodded and stood, asked if they wanted a glass of water. Mark said yes. The door closed behind him. Nicky looked at Mark.

“You okay?”

“Just need a minute.” He buried his face in his hands. Nicky patted his back, still able to feel the slick of cold sweat on his hand, the clammy heat of Mark's grip. Mark's hands had been warm last time, soft on his skin. Now they were trembling slightly.

“It's okay,” Nicky said quietly. “You want a hug or anything?”

“Just... need a minute.” Mark breathed out, shaking. “This can't be happening,” he whispered, though Nicky didn't think Mark was talking to him. His hand started to make slow circles, stroking up and down a long spine.

The doctor came back in a few minutes later. Mark drained his water in one go and tossed the empty cup into the wastepaper basket under the desk.

The doctor said a lot more. Nicky couldn't follow it all. Something about T-cells and viral loads, and lots of unpronounceable names that Nicky assumed were medications. The prescription pad came out. Mark was handed three slips. Then they started talking about side-effects. They all sounded wretched, though the doctor said most of them would clear up in a few weeks, and to come back if they didn't.

They made another appointment for three months time. It felt a long time away, though Mark nodded silently and put the prescriptions in his wallet with the list. Nicky touched his hand again, felt Mark's fingers entwine with his.

“Do you have someone to support you at home?”

Mark swallowed. The hand in his squeezed tighter.

“My family, I guess. It's just me, really. I live by myself.”

“I can check in on you,” Nicky offered.

“You don't have to.” Nicky shrugged, not sure why he was making this ridiculous commitment. Mark wasn't his problem. But it was heartbreaking, really, watching a whole life turn on a crumbling axis, knowing Mark would probably have to keep his balance alone.

“I'll check in on you.”

“Okay,” Mark breathed. “Thanks.”

The doctor did a good job of not asking any questions. He bent back over his clipboard.

“Now, when you see a dentist...”

Mark's hand squeezed Nicky's even tighter.

 

*

 

“Maybe you shouldn't do this today,” Nicky urged. Mark shook his head. The car ride had passed in near silence, Mark staring out the window while Nicky drove, not bothering to make conversation. They stopped in on the pharmacy on the way back. Mark had gone in, come back out, walking mechanically, like he was piloting himself with a joystick. Then he'd climbed back in and continued staring out the window.

Now he was sitting on the sofa, staring at three boxes of tablets.

“Gotta do it eventually.” Mark's voice was flat, slightly detached.

“You know the doctor said once you start taking them you can't stop.”

“I heard.” Mark stood up, got himself a glass of water, then sat back down. Nicky sat down next to him. The blister packs were opened. Within a minute three pills sat in Mark's hand, the glass clutched in the other. “Well, here we go.” He shoved them in, swallowed. Put the glass on the coffee table.

“How do you feel?”

“I literally just took them. They're not magic beans.”

“Isn't that Viagra? Growing a beanstalk?”

“Ha.” Mark stood back up. “It's getting late. I'd better start...” His car keys jangled when he picked them up, noisy in the heavy silence. Nicky stood up as well. “Thanks. I... know you were trying to be nice, but you're not responsible for me. I don't expect you to be.”

“I know.” Nicky reached out a hand. “I'll check in on you, though. Call me if there's anything I can do.”

“I... yeah.” Mark swallowed, then shook his hand. It still felt clammy, slick with fright. Nicky let go. “Well. I'll head over to the cinemas, see if I can catch Andy there. Thanks for everything, you know? I'm so sorry about all of this.”

“It's not your fault.”

“It's gotta be someone's,” Mark murmured. Nicky touched his hand again, trying to figure out some way to comfort this man, to make it okay, knowing that he never could. “I'll let you out.”

 

*

 

Nicky sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV. Three in the afternoon, some gameshow dross on television. He'd always fancied himself as a good host for one of these things, maybe, had gone to a few auditions back in the day. He'd done the trivia night down at the pub when he'd been younger, hosted karaoke for a bit, and he liked the blag of it. Getting up and being in charge, hearing people laugh and listen to what you had to say, even if they were a bit drunk and arguing over who had written Gone With The Wind.

Today had been... interesting. He hadn't realised how much had been involved. Oh, he knew about taking medication and all that, but it was the other stuff. Like, how Mark would be at risk for things like tuberculosis, pneumonia, lyphoma and all sorts of infections. How he might be more susceptible to dementia in later life. That was a lot to worry about when you were worrying about things already.

The show went to an advert break. Nicky could still feel a trembling, clammy hand pressed into his. He really hoped Mark was okay. He'd been quiet in the flat, had looked so in control of himself it was a little frightening, like he'd been duct-taped together with resolve, everything else falling apart underneath.

But driving around the country like that, side effects and all... He understood why Mark wanted to do it, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried. What if the poor guy got sick on the road and couldn't get back? Yeah, Sligo was only a few hours away, but diarrhoea and vomiting and fatigue and dizziness and all that other shit was going to be crippling, even for a few hours. What if he was halfway to the middle of nowhere and couldn't keep going?

Nicky sighed and went to get his keys again.

This was turning into a bloody habit.

 

*

 

He found Mark at the shopping centre, sitting on a bench outside the cinemas. The after-school traffic had been murder, and he'd thought he was going to miss him, especially after spending twenty minutes looking for a space in the cement maze of the bloody car park.

Mark didn't see him for a minute. He was hunched over, staring at his shoes. Nicky sat down next to him.

“Hey.”

Blue eyes looked up in surprise. Nicky shrugged, like trying to explain was a waste of time. Mark sighed.

“Hello.”

“Thought I'd come help.”

“I thought you went home?”

“I did. Watched a repeat of that terrible lottery show, the one that makes no sense?”

“I like that show.”

“Of course you do.” Nicky nudged him gently. “What are we doing?”

“We?”

“Yeah. I mean, you're not going to do this by yourself, right? You'll start babbling, and apologising, and the lad'll get all freaked out and throw up.”

“Oh, right.” Mark rolled his eyes, though his cheeks were going pink. He looked back at his shoes. “Haven't gone in yet. He's at the counter. I was thinking maybe I'd just wait here until he finishes his shift? Don't want to go after him at work.”

“When does he finish?” Mark shrugged. “Right, so you're going to sit here for potentially eight hours so you can accost some lad? That's going to look creepy.”

“Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do?” Mark's eyes blazed for a moment, annoyed and defensive. Nicky held his gaze.

“Which one is he?”

“The one at the candy bar.” Nicky craned his neck, and after a moment he spotted a rangy lad stacking Tayto packets onto a display. He was cute, maybe mid-twenties, shoulder-length dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“You and younger lads, right?”

“I'm not a bloody cradle-snatcher.” Mark rolled his eyes. “I met him here, actually. I got a popcorn and he started flirting with me. I'd been single for a while, and I was feeling a bit down on meself. I never thought it was going to be serious, it was just nice to...” He sighed. “God, I sound fucking sad.”

“Nah.” Nicky watched the lad head over to the chocolates, then sank back next to Mark. “Can't say my love life's been cracking along either, in fairness. My road trip wouldn't have been nearly as interesting.”

“Lucky me,” Mark drawled. Nicky laughed. Mark snorted, eyes sparkling for a moment. “I don't know. I used to be okay at this. Like, I was never really one for the casual thing, but I used to be alright.”

“You picked me up.”

“Yeah, was a bit proud of that one.” Mark elbowed him. “Then you went and skipped out on me.”

“Did you want me to stay?”

“Don't know.” He went a little pink, eyes shifting away while he shrugged. “Thought we got along okay. You were a good laugh, and the sex was nice. I was going to ask for your number.”

Now Nicky felt bad. He'd just left, thought that was what they were doing, some sort of unspoken agreement that it hadn't meant anything. Mark was still blushing. He'd liked Mark. They'd had a good laugh, and despite everything Mark was actually really easy to be around. This quiet, careful man whose eyes lit up when he smiled.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. I'm a big boy, I can take it.”

“It wasn't that I didn't like you. The sex was good.”

“Thanks,” Mark chuckled. “No, don't worry. Honestly. It wasn't like I was pining or anything. I hadn't thought of you at all until I got the news.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Why, did you think about me?”

“Not really,” Nicky admitted. “I mean, it was a funny story. The whole... thing.”  Luke's face had been utterly brilliant. By the next day his account had been blocked. “You were nice. It was a good night.”

“It was,” Mark agreed. He stood up slightly, craning his neck. Nicky did too. Andy was back behind the ticket counter, looking bored and fiddling with a stapler. “Better go talk to him, I guess.”

“Probably.” The lad put down the stapler to serve a dad with four kids, the girls all dressed like princesses, the boy looking put-upon and pointing at the poster for the new Jason Statham movie. The dad looked like he'd rather be seeing that one too. “How long ago did you sleep with him?”

“Probably last August or so?”

“So... like fifteen months.” Nicky nodded. “Well, on the up side he's probably gotten tested between then and now, if he's doing it regular. He might not even need to get tested again.”

“Hopefully.” Mark craned his neck again. The family were walking away, the three girls skipping along and the boy slouching behind them. He sat back down. “Maybe he'll go on lunch soon. I wouldn't want to interrupt.”

“Oh, for god's...” Nicky stood up. “I'll talk to him, alright?”

“Nicky...”

Nicky shook his head, jogging inside. When he looked back Mark was lurking in the doorway, doing a terrible job of being nonchalant. Nicky headed up to the ticket counter.

“How can I help you today?” the lad droned. Nicky put on a cheerful smile.

“Andy Summers?”

“Yes?”

“Hi. My name's Nicky Byrne, I'm here on behalf of an anonymous third party. How are you today?”

“Um... fine.” Andy shook the hand Nicky extended, looking confused.

“I need to speak to you about a delicate health matter. Can we step outside for a moment?”

“Health matter?” Andy looked around. Mark had ducked back outside. “I don't...?”

“It's nothing to be worried about. Just got a couple of questions for you. Won't be more than five minutes. Possible concern and we're just checking people that might have been affected.”

“Um...” Andy blinked, then he seemed to rally himself. He waved at one of the ushers then slid out of the booth, letting her take over. Nicky motioned him out of the cinemas, walking past Mark and out to the foodcourt, gesturing for Andy to take a seat.

“Okay, so first of all I want to let you know that the concern is minimal,” Nicky started. He could see Mark watching, floating hesitantly near the bench, looking unsure about whether he was supposed to come over or not. “What we know right now is that one of your sexual partners in the last eighteen months may have tested positive for a sexually transmitted disease.” He saw Andy's mouth open, cheeks beginning to go pale. “We have no reason to think you might have been exposed, but I just need to know when you had your last medical check.”

“Erm...” Andy looked down at his hands and started to count backwards on his fingers, his mouth forming silent words. “April.”

“And what were you tested for?”

“The... usual. I...” Andy tilted his head. “Who did you say you were here for again?”

“An anonymous third party.”

“Is...” Andy squinted at him. “Who was it? Was it Pete? We were safe, but...”

“It wasn't Pete, no.” Nicky folded his hands, trying to look professional. “Were you tested for HIV?”

“Yes.” Andy blinked. “Oh god, I'm not...?”

“Did you test negative in April?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you should be fine.” Andy didn't look comforted. “The exposure would have been some time last year. At this stage, I'd suggest a follow up check, but otherwise you should be in the clear.” Andy nodded numbly. “I'm sorry to take up your time, sir.”

“It's... fine.” The boy slumped a little. “Oh shit.”

“I really wouldn't worry.” Nicky touched his hand gently. Andy nodded. “It's just routine, honestly. We don't think anyone else would have been infected, we just have to be sure.”

“I... yeah. Thanks, I guess.” Andy swallowed. “Holy shit.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He looked pale, but fine. “I'll go get tested again, but...” He scratched his arm. “Shit, what about my boyfriend? Will he be okay?”

“You'll be fine, I'm sure,” Nicky promised. That was it, mostly. He didn't know what else to say, so he gave Andy his number and asked him to call if anything out of the ordinary happened. The lad went back to work, staring at his shoes and not noticing Mark stood away from the door, chewing on his fingernails.

Nicky headed back over.

“How did it go?”

“Cross another one off.” Mark sagged, a smile flitting over his mouth. “He got tested in April. He's fine.”

“Oh, thank god,” Mark breathed. “What did you tell him?”

“Not much.” Nicky began to walk back towards the carpark. Mark didn't follow for a moment, but then Nicky heard the slight scurry of feet and felt presence beside him. He looked up, smiling. “How you doing?"

“I'm okay. Feel a bit sick, but I can't tell if it's the drugs or just nerves.”

“Any other side-effects?”

“Don't think so.” He swallowed. “Mouth's a bit dry. Not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” Nicky agreed. He hefted his car keys. “Right, who's next?”

 


	4. Chapter 4

They got back to Mark's flat in good time. Nicky followed behind him, not sure why he was doing this. It had been okay, being a buffer between Mark and Andy, trying to break the news. He knew he was probably butting in but Mark had been too nervous, too emotional, and Nicky at least knew he was good at the poker face, at sounding confident even when he was completely shitting himself.

It had done him well at school. Smiling and letting the comments and whispers roll off his back. He supposed it was probably different now. One of his cousin's kids was in high-school and they had a club and everything, and with the referendum just gone through he had a feeling it was almost becoming unfashionable to have a problem with gay kids. Being gay was cool, now. At least in the city.

It hadn't been back then. Not in the nineties. He'd been fourteen when homosexuality had been decriminalised in Ireland, and it hadn't been like this at all. He'd watched the news, seen the celebration, and had felt, for a moment, a little better.

His parents didn't seem that fussed by the news. His mam said 'oh, that's nice', his dad said 'fair play to them', and that at least was comforting. They weren't invested in it, though. It was a thing that was happening to other people. Nobody actually _knew_ anyone who was gay, except for those two bachelors who had moved in together a few doors down and it wasn't our place to spread rumours, but they're very well dressed, aren't they? Not that I mind.

The next day when he'd gotten to school some kid had whispered 'faggot' on the way past. The kid behind him barged Nicky with his shoulder, and knocked him into the water fountain. He fell, grazing his knee on the ground.

One of the kids had seen the blood and run away laughing, shouting that Nicky had The AIDS. Nobody had stopped him. The nurse had handed him an antiseptic wipe and a bandaid and told him to put it on himself.

It was a bit tricky finding a park on Mark's street, but he managed to find one up the block, only a few minute's walk. By the time he arrived at the apartment building Mark was parked. Nicky began to head for the door, but after a moment he realised Mark was still sat behind the wheel.

He went over. Was about to rap on the window when the door swung open and Mark leaned out, heaving suddenly onto the cement. Nicky took a surprised step back. Mark threw up again, hand braced on the top of the door.

He coughed, swore softly, then threw up one more time, though there wasn't much left. Nicky waited, wishing he didn't feel too paranoid to step over and check on the lad. There was vomit pooling at his feet, though, and part of him was recoiling. Mark coughed again.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Don't feel well.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Think...” He covered his mouth against a burp. “Think that's it. I don't...” He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Don't feel so good.”

“I noticed.” Mark gave him a rueful smile.

“Okay.” He exhaled slowly. “Okay. I'll um... clean that up. I just...” He swung one leg out of the car, then the other, though he looked shaky and pale. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Just...” Mark looked down at the spreading pool on the ground. “I don't know. I felt a bit sick on the drive, and all of a sudden it just caught up with me. I thought I'd at least make it inside.” He looked up at Nicky. “I'm really dizzy.”

“You want help?”

“Just need a second.”

“Okay.” Nicky glanced around. “Got your house keys?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll run up and get a bucket of water, okay? Clean this up?” He didn't want to. Really didn't want to, and hated himself for thinking that. It was just a bit of puke. Mark seemed to hesitate, but after a moment he pulled the keys out of the ignition slot and handed them over, holding out the key for the front door.

Nicky dashed away. It was four storeys up, and he was slowing a bit by the time he reached the top, but the door opened easily. Then he was in Mark's flat, looking for a bucket.

He found one in the linen cupboard, tangled in with a mop, a broom, and a vacuum cleaner. It wasn't that clean, but it would have to do. He got a glass of water from the tap, filled the bucket, and began to head towards the door, trying not to spill.

He passed a photo on the way. He hadn't noticed it before, hung on the wall in the hallway. It was cute; Mark, his parents, and what had to be his brothers. One was the spit of Mark, with dark hair and pink cheeks, though a little shorter, the other one was a younger, skinnier version of them both, a little girl sat on his knee. Mark's niece, he assumed. They looked happy, sat outside on a blanket on a sunny day.

By the time he made it back downstairs Mark was out of the car, sat on the low brick wall running alongside the parking lot, hunched down, head between his knees. Nicky handed him the glass of water, then began to carefully tip the bucket over the mess on the cement, trying to wash it towards the gutter. By the time it was clean the driveway was a mirror of wet, grey cement and Mark had a little more colour in his cheeks. Nicky crouched down beside him.

“Okay?”

“Thanks. Yeah.” Mark took the hand Nicky offered, letting himself be pulled up. “I'll just have a rest for a little bit, then head out again.” They began to head for the stairs, Nicky walking slowly beside him, watching Mark's hand tremble on the handrail.

“You're going to keep going?” Mark shrugged. “You're not well.”

“I know.” Mark sniffed. “Suppose I'd better get used to it.”

“The doctor said you'd feel back to normal once the side effects stop. It's just your medication.” They stopped on the third floor landing to let Mark rest. He looked pale and sweaty, eyes a little unfocused. Nicky put an arm around his waist when he saw him sway slightly. “Leave it a week, maybe. Get yourself sorted out, then go when you're better.”

“Can't.” Mark looked like he was going to cry. “Can't leave it any longer. What if...” He closed his eyes. “I can't. I've waited too long already.”

“Okay.” Nicky wrapped the other arm around him, and pulled him into a hug. He felt Mark resist, then sag, head leaning on his shoulder. “Okay. Fine.” He bit his lip. “Right, let's get you upstairs at least. Into bed.” Mark didn't look like he had the energy to refuse. “Tomorrow morning we can go together. I'll drive. To Sligo if we have to.”

“I...” Mark sniffed. “I'm okay. I can do this on my own. I should, anyway. It's not your problem.”

“Yeah, well, I'm involved now,” Nicky said. Mark snorted.

“You involved yourself, you mean?”

“Same thing.” He squeezed Mark gently, then let go, guiding him up the stairs. “If you really don't want me to, tell me to fuck off, alright? Otherwise I'm your chauffeur until we get this thing done.”

“You're mental,” Mark said. He sounded resigned, but there was smile in his eyes. “You do realise that?” Nicky shrugged. He'd always had his suspicions.

“Tell me not to, then.”

Mark sighed. Nodded.

“Okay. But I get to pick the music.”

 

*

 

“It's bloody Martin O'Neill!” Nicky exclaimed. Mark was laughing, laid across the sofa while Nicky argued with the contestants on Eggheads. “Right there! National football team manager, Martin O'Neill!”

“ _I'll go with Martin O'Neill.”_

“Thank you!” Nicky raised his hands as the answer was locked in. “Jesus fucking Christ. Like pulling teeth.”

“Calm down,” Mark chuckled. He'd collapsed on the sofa once they'd come upstairs, saying he didn't feel like sleeping so much as he felt like laying down and never standing up again. Nicky had put the bucket next to him, and he'd thrown up again, though he'd been capable enough to get up, tip the contents down the toilet, and come back to the living room. Now he was laid on his front in his pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt, one hand trailing on the floor while Nicky sat in the armchair, shouting at the television.

“That arsehole said it was Don Givens! What is this, 2007? He wasn't even a manager, he was just a bloody caretaker when Staunton retired.”

“I'll take your word for it.”

“I'd be brilliant on this show.”

“I can see that,” Mark laughed, though his voice sounded tired. “I'll be on your team. I can do the Music and Food & Drink subjects. It's always a question about cocktails or something.” A few minutes later Food & Drink was chosen. Mark looked a little more alert, pursing his lips like he was determined to prove himself.

“ _Besides whiskey and bitters, what is typically in a Manhattan?”_

“Vermouth,” Mark replied promptly, looking smug. Nicky laughed. The contestant chose Vodka. Mark rolled his eyes.

“I'll take your word for it.”

“It's vermouth.” Mark shrugged. “Easy one.” He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes, though his mouth curved into a small smile when they announced the answer. It went to adverts a few minutes later, after a question about cheese that Mark answered easily. Nicky turned the sound down.

“How you feeling?”

“Okay. Just trying not to move.” He breathed out slowly, feet stretching out. “It's not so bad. You know when you're a bit drunk, and you don't feel sick exactly, but you know if you try to move or something it's not gonna end well?”

“I'm familiar with it.”

Mark nodded, arms folding behind his head. He was still really sexy, despite looking a bit pale and sweaty. Thick thighs and broad shoulders, strong hands that had felt fucking amazing braced next to him on the bed, Nicky arching up and crying out as he was hammered into. He glanced at the front of Mark's pyjama bottoms, able to see the slight bulge in the fabric.

“Nicky?”

“Yeah.” He looked guiltily up at Mark's face, though Mark's eyes were still closed, long lashes fluttering slightly.

“Would you mind getting me the duvet off the bed? I'm cold.”

“Course I can.” He stood up. When he came back Eggheads was back on and Mark was sitting up slightly, watching the television. Nicky handed him the duvet then sat back down, watching Mark tuck it in around himself, knees drawn up to his chest. He looked like a very sad butterfly, wrapped in a stripy blue cocoon. Nicky smiled.

“What?”

“Just cute.”

Mark laughed, wiping his mouth. “Thanks. This doing it for you? Is it the puke?”

“It's definitely the puke,” Nicky teased. “I know the last lad I was with, he was so pale and disgusting, puking all over the place. Couldn't keep my hands to myself.”

“Hot.” Mark laughed. “Who was the last lad you were with?”

“Just this guy I met online. Terry. We went to the movies a few times, had a meal or two. We didn't like... fuck or anything, we just made out for a bit and traded handjobs.”

“Why did you break up?”

“Just... did.” Nicky shrugged. “It's shitty out there, you know? Like, I'd like to be in a relationship, I guess, but when you get to my age you just run out of reasons to tolerate other people's crap. I meet these guys, and I'm sure they're fine, but... I don't know. They're either young and just looking to play around, or they're my age and they've already decided they're old. I don't want to stay in every night and watch Midsomer Murders, but I'm over the club scene. It's just...”

“I know what you mean,” Mark agreed. “I'm over fucking about, but with my hours I'm not really a nine-to-five, come home for tea kind of person. Like, yeah. I'd love to settle down and be with someone, maybe do the wedding and house and kids and everything, but I'd still like to go out and have fun once in a while. I'm not putting on a cardigan yet."

“Or you could just sit around in the middle of the afternoon and watch Eggheads.”

“Fuck off.” A cushion flew at Nicky's head. He deflected it, laughing. “Suppose I won't be doing any of it, now.”

“Why not?”

“Hi, my name's Mark. I like tennis and terrible action movies, I own a bar, and I'm HIV positive.” His voice went quiet at the end. He looked away, blinking. Nicky felt his heart sink.

“You can still do that stuff.”

“Mm.” Mark shrugged. “Well, anyway.” He turned towards the television. “Cubism.”

“What?”

“Pablo Picasso. Cubism.” Mark gestured at the TV. He was right. Nicky smiled.

“Nerd.”

“Old man,” Mark retorted. He pulled his knees a little closer to his chest. “I might go have a sleep in a few minutes. You can go home, if you want. I'll be okay.”

“Will you?”

“I think so. It's just for the night.” Mark paused. “You um... coming back in the morning? I was going to leave for the college around ten, then start heading for Sligo. If you're still...”

“Sounds good.” Nicky began to look for his keys. Mark did look tired, and he probably wanted Nicky out of his hair. “I can come by around nine. We taking my car or yours?”

“Mine. I'll drive.” It didn't look like Mark was sure of that. Nicky pursed his lips. “I've got the Range Rover, anyway. It'll fit more in. It might be a couple of days.”

“Plenty of socks and jocks, then?”

“Good idea.” Mark nodded. Nicky shoved his wallet in his pocket, found his phone. Eggheads was just wrapping up. “Hey... thanks. For today.”

“It's okay.” Nicky touched his shoulder. Mark looked up. Then, in a moment of impulse, he bent down and pressed a light kiss to a stubbly pink cheek. He stood back up, ruffling dark hair playfully while a bashful smile spread itself across Mark's face. “You'll be fine, okay?” Mark didn't nod, but a shoulder hitched in a shrug. “I'll see you in the morning."

“Okay.” Mark stood up, the blanket still tight around his shoulders. “I'll walk you out.”

 

*

 

It was early when he got back to Mark's. Nicky had thought about picking them up some breakfast on the way, but he wasn't sure how Mark was feeling, thought that a McMuffin might be a bit full on if he was still unwell. They could always pick something up on the road, anyway. It was a bit of an adventure, despite the reasons for it. He'd never been to Sligo before.

He knocked on the door.

Waited.

Knocked again, feeling a sudden rush of panic.

“Mark?” he called, knocking harder. The noise of shuffling feet was an enormous relief, and he stepped back as the door swung open.

“Hey.” Mark didn't look well. Deep circles under his eyes, and still pale. “Sorry. I was um... in the toilet.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just... been up half the night.” He sniffed, covering his mouth. “Ugh, I need to brush my teeth. Give me a minute?”

“Definitely.” Nicky followed him back inside, sinking down on the couch. He heard the tap run. Mark came back out, looking not much better.

“I've gotta take a shower. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. Hey...” Nicky stood back up. Mark looked dreadful. “Have you taken your stuff this morning?”

“Not yet. The doctor said I should get a routine, so I figure two in the afternoon's probably a good time, same as yesterday. I usually start work at four, get off just after one, so doing it first thing in the morning doesn't make much sense if I'm asleep then anyway.” He wiped his mouth again. “You um... might have to drive.” He went red, looked away. Nicky touched his hand gently.

“I like driving. It's fine.” He poked a solid arm. “Shotgun gets to pick the music, anyway.” He sat down again. “I'll wait here. You do what you need to do. We still going to the college first?”

“Yeah, makes sense.” Mark smiled weakly. “Won't be long.”

He disappeared again. The duvet had been put away again, so Nicky toed off his shoes and kicked his feet up, hoping Mark wouldn't mind his socks on the sofa. The shower started to run in the other room. Nicky closed his eyes.

When he opened them again Mark was shuffling back out, dressed in a black coat that dropped to mid-thigh, hiding a dark blue sweater vest and a white shirt, his hair still wet from the shower. He looked cute. Nicky helped him check everything was turned off at the wall, all the windows shut, and they headed downstairs. He collected his bag, tossed it into the back of the SUV with Mark's, then climbed into the passenger seat. Mark handed him the keys.

“This is nice.” He tested the feel of the steering wheel under his hands. “Last year?”

“Yeah, I traded in my old Jeep.” Mark tilted the seat back a little. He didn't look like he could quite get comfortable, though considering he'd probably been stuck on the loo Nicky wasn't surprised. He'd had a stomach flu the year before and it had been brutal.

“Bit off-road for Dublin?”

“Not for Sligo.” Mark smirked. “I visit my family a lot. You need something that can take mud and cow-shit.”

“Good thing we're taking yours, then.” He pulled his own seat forward a bit and adjusted the mirrors. Mark's eyes were already closed. “They all live in Sligo?”

“Yeah. My brother Barry visits a lot. My brother Colin has a daughter, so they don't get down as much. She's my god-daughter.” Pride flashed across his face for a moment. It was very sweet. “It'll be nice to see her, anyway. Do you mind if we drop in while we're there?"

“Not at all,” Nicky promised. “I don't have to be back at work for another week.”

“We shouldn't need that long. Be back tomorrow, if everything works out.” Mark began to play with his phone, hooking it up to the car stereo and scrolling through his playlist while Nicky backed the car out into a spot on the street. He climbed out quickly, moved his own car into Mark's space, made sure it was locked, and climbed back in. Mark had picked a song already, drifting softly through the speaker system.

He pulled the car out onto the road and headed north.

 

*

 

The university was quiet. Classes had finished, evidently, because there was hardly anyone about. It was getting cold, a thick frost from that morning still crunching under his boots even though it was almost ten in the morning. They found a map, managed to find an office, though Nicky wasn't even sure if it was the right one. The girl behind the counter looked bored, was twiddling a pen and playing with her phone when they walked up.

“Hi.” Nicky leaned over the counter before Mark could start waffling. “I'm so sorry, this might be the wrong place, but I'm looking for a friend? Neil Lindsay? He's doing his Honours here."

“It's university policy not to release personal details of our students.” She didn't look like she cared either way, was reciting it by rote. “Are you family?”

“Erm... no.” Nicky winced. “It's a personal matter, though.”

“University policy...”

“Yeah, I... got that.” He bit his lip, trying to think. She was watching him with a kind of expectant disinterest. “Um.” He glanced back over his shoulder at Mark. “Can... is there anything we can do? We just want to talk to him. Can you like... call him, or?”

“I'm not permitted to do that, sir.” She crossed her arms. Nicky sighed.

“Thanks so much for your help.” He grabbed Mark's arm, tugging him out of the office and into the hallway. “Right, what do you want to do?”

“I guess we can always try messaging him? I mean, it's not ideal, but...” Mark trailed off. Nicky pulled out his phone, tapping on his recent searches until he found Neil's page. He was about to press the message button, when... “Oh, wait.”

“What?”

“Look.” Mark pointed at the screen. “He's checked in somewhere. Ten minutes ago.” Nicky clicked on the link. Some coffee shop, The Daily Grind. Sickeningly cute name aside, it wasn't that far away, just up the road. He'd checked in with a few people, so maybe they'd be there a while.

They headed back to the car. Mark looked a bit better, not as pale. Probably a good thing. If they were going to tell this kid not to worry, it was probably better if Mark didn't look like death while they did it.

They arrived three minutes later. It took another ten to find a parking space. By the time they got in they were almost running, hoping they hadn't been too late.

It was nice in here. A largish split-level cafe, the smell of roasted beans thick in the air. They checked the bottom floor first, to no luck, then headed upstairs, looking around for a familiar face. Nicky spotted him first, squashed up in the corner with four other people, a few strands of blonde hair poking out from under a floppy beanie. Painfully hipster, his scarf looped casually around his neck, his jacket so vintage it was probably brand new from Urban Outfitters.

He nudged Mark, who looked around, eyes widening

“That's him.”

“You shagged that guy? Really?”

“I was drunk. He's cute.”

“He looks like a twat.”

“He was fine.” Mark sighed. “How do we do this?”

“Erm...” Nicky looked around. It was fairly busy in here. As he watched the lad got up from the table and headed towards the toilets. He walked right past them, didn't even look at Mark, then disappeared.

“Maybe it's not him,” Mark suggested. Nicky wanted to agree, though he could see they both knew the truth. The lad just flat out hadn't remembered Mark. “Go talk to him?”

He took Mark's wrist, towing him towards the toilets. The lad came out of a stall while they waited near the sinks, glanced at them curiously, then went to wash his hands. Mark bit his lip.

“Neil?”

The guy looked up. Right name, at least. Nicky attempted a smile that said they weren't two weirdos cruising coffee shop toilets and waiting for boys half their age to take a piss. Neil didn't look impressed.

“Hi. Sorry. You don't know us, but...” He gestured at Mark. “This is Mark. You might have shagged him last year? At the Left Foot?” Neil really didn't look impressed. “In the toilets?”

“Erm...” Neil was looking around nervously, like maybe he thought Mark was trying to accost him for a second go. “Okay.”

“Was that you?”

“...maybe,” he admitted. He tugged his scarf so it looked slightly more dishevelled. “Was I drinking tequila?”

“Yeah,” Mark said quietly. “We were doing shots.”

“Fuck.” Neil winced. “Probably was me, then. Sorry, I get daddy issues when I drink tequila. No offence.” He glanced at Mark, who was going pink. Nicky was a bit offended. Mark didn't look that bloody old. Certainly not to be the father of some hipster twat who couldn't hold his tequila.

Nicky didn't want to ask, all of a sudden. Not in front of Mark. The kid was looking at both of them with something like scorn. The kind of scorn that was probably very PC, holistic and aware of various isms, but still condescending. Part of Nicky wanted to scare him, knock him off his high horse a bit.

“Sorry, what's up, exactly?”

Nicky glanced at Mark.

“No, we just thought it was funny. Because I was saying, right, that I'm pretty sure I shagged you too. Like, six months ago? Small world, right?”

Neil groaned, covering his eyes.

“Jesus, I have _got_ to talk to my therapist about this. She always says I compartmentalise my issues with my dad.” Nicky wondered how fast he could be throttling this brat. He glanced in the mirror, worried now. He looked fine. This kid didn't know what he was talking about, though he had been noticing a few extra lines in the corners of his eyes, and his dad had always said that baldness ran in the family...

He looked away from the mirror. The kid was adjusting his satchel.

“Can we talk for a second?”

“About what?” The lad raised an eyebrow. “I have to get back to my friends.”

“No, it's just...” Nicky realised he was standing in front of the door. “Look, I tried to track you down at the time, but I guess we weren't exactly trading last names. This is embarrassing but...” He stepped a little closer. Neil watched him warily. “I tested positive for HIV a few months ago.”

“Oh.” Neil's mouth dropped open. He took a step back, looking between them. “We... used a condom, right?”

“I think so, yeah. Have you been tested recently?”

“Last month.” His hand tightened on the satchel strap. “Oh fuck, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?”

Nicky blinked.

“I'm okay,” he said. “Just started on the meds. Still trying to like... find my feet a bit, but I'm figuring it out. Not loving the side-effects.”

“God, no. My friend started on it a couple years ago, and she was miserable for two weeks. Daft girl got a tattoo in Cambodia, started getting sick when she came back. Wait...” He flipped open his satchel, dug around for a moment, then came back with a pamphlet, thrusting it towards Nicky. Nicky took it carefully. “Outreach program. We run it at the university, but if you need to talk...”

“Thanks,” Nicky said, looking down at it. “How's... your friend, if you don't mind me asking?”

“She's okay. One day at a time. She can't go out on the sauce like she used to, but she met this girl through the group, so silver linings I guess. They're getting married next year.” He smiled, reached out a hand. “I'd better go, but... I hope everything works out, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nicky shook his hand. Mark did as well. They got a bright smile, then Neil left the bathroom, the door banging shut behind him.

Nicky started to laugh. After a moment Mark did too, his face bright red. He crouched down against the wall.

Nicky sank down beside him.

“Well, that went well.”

Mark looked up, eyes crinkled with laugher. Nicky put an arm around his shoulders.

“What an utter twat,” Nicky snorted. “As if you'd be his dad.”

“Oh god,” Mark sighed, hiccuping through his giggles. “I... don't know whether to be offended or relieved.”

“Maybe it says in the pamphlet.” He held it up, still laughing, then looked down when he felt a head land on his shoulder. “You ready to get on the road?”

“Could use some breakfast first, honestly.” Mark looked up. He really was cute when he laughed. Nicky wanted to kiss him, suddenly, and wasn't sure why. He smiled back instead. “Grab a muffin or something on the way out?”

“Definitely.” Nicky hugged him a little tighter. “Three off the list?”

“Halfway there.”

Nicky pecked him quickly on the forehead, then stood before either of them could mention it, tugging Mark up as well.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Mark seemed more upbeat once he had some food in him. They got stuck in traffic getting out of Dublin, got on the M4, and an hour later were almost at Clonard. The traffic report mentioned that there had been an accident near Mullingar, and they were seeing the effects already, traffic starting to slow. Mark told him to turn off at Kinnegad instead, onto the M6. Nicky did, sighing with relief when the road cleared onto broad stretches of green farmland, a slight rocky ridge running along their right.

“Nice work,” he commented. Mark shrugged.

“If there's one thing I know how to do, it's get to Sligo.” Mark leaned back in his seat. “This is nice. Usually I don't get to relax, I'm too busy driving.”

“I like driving.” Nicky turned down the music a little so they could talk. “I used to do it all the time, when I first got my license. I wasn't out, and it helped me think. I'd drive for hours. Not even stop, just pick a road and go.”

“How old were you?”

“When I came out?” Mark nodded. “Eighteen. It wasn't bloody easy, I know that much.”

“Who did you tell first?”

“My sister. I knew she'd be okay. She was always class about stuff like that. Gillian just hugged me and said it was fine. I think she'd suspected, but she didn't say anything.”

“When did you tell your parents?”

“Six months later. They were okay, too. My mam was more surprised than my dad, I think.” Nicky shook his head. “Weird time. It's not like it is today, you know? I don't think they knew what to do with me, but they were always pretty supportive.”

“That's really nice.” Mark's fingers were tapping along to the music on the windowsill. The windows were shut, heater on to keep out the cold. Mark looked a little pink in the warm, but his eyes were bright. “You see them often?”

“As often as I can. Dad passed a few years ago, but I drop in on mam all the time. My little brother's moved out now, so I don't want her to be by herself.”

“How old's he?”

“Twenty five. He's finished college. He did broadcasting, wants to get into television.”

“Acting's in the family, then?” Nicky looked over in surprise. He didn't remember telling Mark that. “You said you'd done a bit, that night in the bar.”

“Did I?” Nicky chuckled. “Shit, I can't believe you remember that.” Mark shrugged, looking out the window. “No, he wants to do like production and stuff. He's good, actually. He'll go far, that one. How about you? When did you come out?”

“It was sort of a gradual thing, I guess.” Mark scratched the back of his neck as his forehead crinkled in thought. “It was one of those things that they sort of knew but we never said out loud. They weren't angry or anything. It was a different time, you know? She was worried about me, but being concerned wasn't the same thing as being accepting. It looked like she wanted to burst into tears every time I left the house by myself, like she thought I was doing something dangerous, but she wouldn't ask what it was.”

“What was it?”

“Nothing. Usually I was just going to the movies with the lads or something,” Mark chuckled. Nicky laughed. “But if she didn't ask, then I didn't have to say anything, and if I didn't say anything, she didn't have to know. One day I caught her going through my room. I thought she was looking for smokes or drugs or something, but later I found a box of condoms she'd put in my desk drawer.”

Nicky laughed.

“Free condoms, though.”

“I know, I was just about tapped from the enormous amounts of underaged gay sex I was having.” Mark rolled his eyes. “She didn't find my smokes, thank god.”

“You smoke?”

“Used to. I promised myself I'd quit on my thirtieth birthday.”

“Did you?”

“Finally managed it six months later. Tried the patch, the hypnotism, all that crap. In the end I just went cold turkey. Just decided not to do it one day, and I haven't.”

“Congratulations.”

“Yeah, well.” Mark shrugged. “Probably a good thing. Doctor'd probably make me give that up too, and right now pretty much all I want is a cigarette. I couldn't have done it.” He reached out to turn off the radio. “Sorry, I'm getting a headache.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it's been coming on for a while.” Nicky glanced at the GPS. They still had at least another two hours, and Mark was going to be due for his pills soon. “I didn't sleep well, so that's probably it.”

“Stuck in the toilet?”

“Yeah, that. Plus I just couldn't sleep. The doctor did say insomnia was a possibility, but I think it was nerves more than anything.”

“You nervous?”

“A bit. I haven't seen Kian in a while, not since...” His features hardened, suddenly. “Anyway. I didn't so much tell my parents as introduce them to my boyfriend. Mam panicked a bit at that one, like it was evidence that I was having sex, finally, but Kian and I had grown up together, and our parents knew each other, so it was probably easier than me bringing home some random.”

“Better the devil you know?”

“Quoting Kylie Minogue? So cliché.”

“I'm gay. I'll quote all the Kylie I want. So, was it Love at First Sight?”

“I Should Be So Lucky.” They both laughed. “It was... easy, I guess? We knew each other, so shagging was kind of an extension of that. It wasn't enough, though, just being friends. I think after a while we had to admit that it wasn't working out, that we'd just grown in different directions. That's when I moved down and took over the bar.”

“Did you mam like your other boyfriends?”

“Wouldn't have a clue. She's never met any of them.” Nicky looked over in surprise. Mark grimaced. “Not like, because I think she wouldn't like them, but they've never hung around long enough, or even if they did I knew it wasn't permanent. Like with Kevin. I knew he was going back to London, so why bother introducing him to the family?”

“She's okay with you now?”

“Yeah. I think at the time it wasn't something you talked about, you know? Especially not in the country. Now everyone talks about it. I think she likes it, actually. None of her friends have a gay son.”

“You're like a collector's piece.”

“Damn right,” Mark chuckled. “Rainbow edition, limited run.” He winced slightly, putting a hand to his head. “Ow.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it's really coming on.” He reached under the seat and pulled out a bottle of water. “What time is it?”

“Just after twelve-thirty.”

“Maybe stop for some lunch soon? I have to take my pills.”

“Okay.” They fell into silence, Mark sipping water and looking pained. After a few minutes Nicky saw the turn off for Athlone. He took it, looking out as the town started to come up around them. He found the main street and pulled up in an empty parking space. “What did you want to eat?”

“Erm...” Mark looked around. He was looking pale again. “Don't know. Something small, I think. If I'm going to throw it all up in a bit I don't want to be full of like... hot wings or something.” He yelped suddenly, fingers going to his temple. “Motherfucker,” he growled.

“You're sure you're alright?”

“Fine. Think it's a migraine or something. It's fucking killing.”

“You shouldn't be travelling if you've got a migraine.”

“I'll sleep on the road.” Mark closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. “I might... try to lie down, actually. Do you mind just grabbing me something? I'll get into the back, try to close my eyes for a bit.” He was breathing deliberately, didn't look well at all. Nicky reached out to brush hair off his forehead.

“Hey,” he murmured. Mark shook his head, wincing. “Alright, Plan B.” He pulled out his phone and searched hotels in the area. There was one just up the road. He called them, glancing at Mark as the other man tilted his head back against the seat, one hand massaging his forehead. “Hi, I just wanted to see if you had a room for tonight?” He saw Mark look up in surprise, then shake his head, a stubborn frown fixed on his face. “Yes. Yeah, that'd be grand. Two o'clock? Nicky Byrne. For two.”

Mark shook his head again. Nicky ignored him.

“Credit card...” He dug it out of his wallet and recited the number. He hung up once it went through, then turned to look at Mark. “Right, we're going to find somewhere quiet to park, and at two we can go check in.”

“We have to get to Sligo.”

“We will, just not today.” He began to back out of the spot, then headed down the road until he found a side-street. It was quiet here, nobody about, so he parked. When he looked at Mark again his eyes were closed, face turned away from the light streaming through the window. “Oh, you poor thing,” he murmured. Mark shook his head.

“Leave it. I'm fine.”

“Into the back,” Nicky ordered. “Then I'll find us something to eat.”

“I'm not...”

“Mark...” Nicky unbuckled his seatbelt, then leaned over, pulling Mark into a hug. He felt the body in his arms heave once, then settle.

“This isn't fair,” Mark whispered.

“I know,” Nicky whispered back, kissing his hair.

 

*

 

Mark waited in the car while Nicky checked in. Nicky had gotten him a couple of apples from the supermarket and a can of ginger ale. Mark ate an apple mechanically, sipped some of the ginger ale, then lay down in the back, eyes closed and knees up to his chest, his head in Nicky's lap while Nicky stroked his hair.

He wasn't sure if Mark had fallen asleep. He'd been awake when they'd gone to the hotel. Nicky got the keys, then went to collect him, guiding him through to the elevator.

He hated lifts, himself, but Mark was in no position to take the stairs, so he suffered through it, trying to focus on the steady, pained breathing from the man next to him. Once he got inside he drew all the curtains, made Mark take his meds, then got him in the double bed. Then, satisfied, he went down to get their bags from the car.

When he got back up Mark was asleep.

Nicky lay down next to him, closing his own eyes.

 

*

 

He woke to the sound of Mark being sick.

Nicky sat upright on the bed. It was dark. The clock radio said just after six at night, and he could hear Mark heaving in the bathroom, see light spilling out of the open door. He stumbled out of bed, unsteady on legs that hadn't committed to being awake yet.

The tiles were cold when he sank down next to Mark, too pale in the bathroom light.

“Glad we stopped now?”'

“Fuck off,” Mark muttered, burping pitifully. Nicky smirked. “Sorry.”

“S'okay. Water?”

“Yeah. Think I'm done.” He spat, then wiped his mouth. He staggered back to bed. Nicky sat down beside him, handing him the glass of water he'd quickly drawn from the bathroom sink on the way out. Mark sipped it carefully.

“How's your headache?”

“Still hurts. Bit better.” He looked at Nicky. “Thanks. For before. I... I'm glad I got some sleep.”

“Had a feeling you might.” Nicky nudged him gently, saw a smile. “TV?” Mark nodded. Nicky switched it on, and flicked through stations, looking for something interesting. He settled on an ancient rerun of Friends, then slid down next to Mark, watching it idly.

“I've seen this one.”

“Everyone's seen this one,” Nicky retorted. “It's Friends. Everyone's seen all of them. It's like a bloody religion.”

“I wouldn't go that far.”

“Where does Chandler go to escape Janice?”

“Yemen,” Mark replied promptly. “Oh my god, why do I know that? I don't think I've seen that episode in over a decade.”

“What's Ross's monkey's name?”

“Marcel.” Mark's eyes widened in horror. “What's wrong with me?”

“So no-one told you life was gonna be this way...” He laughed when Mark clapped, hands automatically finding the beat. Mark started at his hands in mock horror.

“Oh god, it's got me. Get back!”

“It's too late for me. It's too late for all of us...” Nicky moaned. “We lived through the nineties. We'll never be free...” He slid down the bed, twitching. “Save... yourself...” He slumped, tongue lolling, eyes rolling back, and heard Mark giggling. He sat back up. Mark was still laughing.

“Do you think that's what kids today will be like with The Big Bang Theory?”

“I hope not. God, can you imagine? People in their forties still saying Bazinga, way after it stopped being funny.”

“How _you_ doin'?”

“Exactly.” Nicky shoved him. Mark grinned back. “You look better.”

“Feel better.” He looked around. “There's just the one bed?”

“Yeah, it was all they had left. I can sleep on the floor.”

“You don't have to. We can sleep together.” He went red. “I... didn't mean it like that, I promise.”

“I know,” Nicky snorted. “Are you sure?”

“It's just sleeping.”

Nicky shrugged. Mark was under the blankets, Nicky on top. It wasn't like anything was going to happen. Nicky hated himself a little bit, but as cute as Mark was the idea of doing... anything like that... was abruptly terrifying. Which made him feel like an arsehole, but there it was. Not that he thought Mark was in the mood with being unwell, but...

“Okay.” He slid down on the bed, watching Ross and Rachel start to argue about the validity of being on a break. Mark slid down too. When Nicky looked over a few minutes later he was asleep, lips parted and face slack. He looked exhausted.

Nicky got up and went to find some dinner.

 

*

 

Nicky's dreams were thick and soft. Strange, cottony things that he couldn't remember while they were happening. There were voices somewhere, and it was hot. Wet. A hand was touching him, moving slowly, bigger than the world. He wanted to sleep. He was already asleep.

When he woke it was still hot and wet, and he could still hear voices. A voice. He opened his eyes, blinking at the wall in the dark, then heard another whimper, like a tiny crying sob. The sheets were soaked. Sweat. He rolled away when he realised it wasn't his own, sitting up on the side of the bed and trying to see.

Mark was spread out, the sheets tangled through his limbs. As Nicky watched he whimpered, made a soft gasp, then rolled over awkwardly onto his front, moaning something that wasn't quite a word.

“Mark.” He reached out a hand. Mark was warm to the touch, soaked in sweat. Running a slight temperature, probably. Another side-effect, maybe, or at least he hoped it was. Mark sobbed again, his eyes opening slightly, though they didn't appear to be seeing anything. Nicky started rubbing his back, not sure what else to do. “Shh...” he whispered. After a long few minutes the shaking eased. Mark relaxed a little, sinking into the sheets, eyes closing again. Nicky lay back down next to him, a hand still settled on his back.

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again Mark was looking at him, eyes sleepy.

“Hey.” Nicky brushed sweaty hair off a slick forehead. “You okay?”

“Too hot,” Mark croaked. Nicky nodded. “Where did you go?”

“Just to get dinner.” He'd gone down to the hotel restaurant, which was really just a cheap-looking salad bar. He'd eaten a crappy square of lasagne and some lukewarm chips, though at least he'd gotten a beer. An hour later he'd been back upstairs and climbing in next to a sleeping Mark. “Sorry. I thought you slept through.”

“S'okay. Figured it was something like that.”

Nicky smiled, trailing his fingers down Mark's temple, back up again. Mark shivered, turning into it. “You have bad dreams?”

“Yeah,” Mark breathed. He swallowed. There were tears on his cheeks, though he wasn't crying. Not any more. “Don't remember. Just remember not being able to wake up. I had night terrors when I was a kid.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Until I was twelve or so.” He closed his eyes. “I'm okay. I'm sorry I woke you.”

“You didn't,” Nicky fibbed. Mark probably didn't believe him, but Nicky didn't believe he was okay, so it evened out. He could feel Mark's pulse when he traced his fingers down Mark's jaw, thrumming hard and panicked in his neck. “You want some water? A cold bath?”

“Maybe a shower.” Mark didn't move, though. “Sort of don't want to get up, at the same time. Not ever.”

“Well, I'm not giving you a sponge-bath.”

“I'm positive, Nicky, I'm not bloody crippled.” Blue eyes cracked back open. Nicky smiled back. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Nicky reached between them to squeeze his hand. Mark squeezed back. “Want me to get the shower going?”

“I can do it.” Mark heaved himself up. He looked a little weak, but there was more colour in his cheeks. Nicky waited on the bed. The sheets were still damp, but they were starting to dry, and by the time the shower shut back off Nicky had almost nodded off again himself.

He opened his eyes when he felt damp hair touch to his shoulder, a hand settling on his chest. He smiled, kissing Mark's hair.

“Just until I fall asleep,” Mark breathed.

Nicky wrapped an arm around him and closed his eyes.

 


	6. Chapter 6

They got back on the road early the next morning. They'd woken facing opposite directions, Nicky tangled in the sheets, Mark tangled in the duvet. It was a bright and clear autumn morning, a muggy breeze in the air that threatened rain later. Mark accompanied him to breakfast, both of them sat in the hotel restaurant eating soggy poached eggs on toast. It was a bit of a dive, all things considered, but at least Mark looked rested, his eyes clearer and skin getting back to it's normal shade of Irish pale.

They got coffee at a cafe on the way out of town, Nicky slotting his into the driver's seat cupholder while Mark sipped his carefully. It was hot enough to wake them up at least, and by the time they hit the motorway again Mark was singing along to the radio.

Nicky joined in, laughing when Mark started mucking around, waving his hand around like Mariah Carey, then started going full diva. Air grabs and pointing at an invisible crowd, Vogueing away. At one point he started doing the hand gestures for the dance from Thriller, leaving Nicky trying to watch the road through his laughter.

“You're mental,” he snorted, when Mark finally took a breather. Mark grinned back.

“You're not the first person to notice.”

“Mental is good.”

“Good.” He stretched slightly. “I feel better.”

“Good.” Nicky reached over to pat his thigh. “Sligo next?”

“Sligo next.” Athlone was starting to shrink into the distance. The road ahead was straight, stretched to the horizon, messy hedges walling them in, sheep spotted through the fields on either side. Mark turned to look out the window.

Nicky trained his eyes on the road.

 

*

  
Sligo was bigger than Nicky had expected. The fields gave way to cement and steel, and once they hit town there were buildings on all sides, a bustling little city centre made of a haphazard arrangement of modern buildings and colourful little nineteenth century houses and shops, all piled in on top of each other. It was charming. They passed over the river, the car bumping slightly when they hit the main street. Mark gave directions. Before long they were heading out of town again, uniform, closely packed cottages becoming sparsely spread farm houses and sprawling mini-mansions.

“Okay, so turn...” Nicky did, swinging down what looked like a side-street but actually turned out to be a long driveway. Within minutes they were pulling up in front of a large white bungalow. Nicky braked. Mark was already climbing out.

“This is pretty. You grew up here?”

“Yeah.” Mark leaned on the side of the car while Nicky got out, looking up at the house. “So... welcome to Sligo.”

“Thanks.” Nicky went around, and began to unload the bags. Mark took his. Nicky swung his own sports bag over his shoulder. They headed up to the front door, Nicky lagging slightly behind.

Mark knocked. The door opened, revealing a woman with platinum blonde hair, looking a little harried. She squealed when she saw Mark, though, pulling him into a hug.

“Hey mam.”

“Markus Michael Patrick Feehily!” she scolded, still hugging him tight. “Didn't expect your face around here.”

“I know. It wasn't really planned. We just...” He glanced at Nicky. “Sorry, this is Nicky.”

“Nicky. Hello.” Her expression went careful, just slightly, but she reached out and pulled him into a quick hug. “I like this one,” she fussed. “He's very good looking.”

“Oh, he's not...” Mark went pink, started to stammer. Nicky laughed.

“Sorry, no.” He nudged Mark lightly. “We're just friends. I was headed over this way for work, and Mark said he'd been meaning to come visit his family, so we made a road trip out of it.” He glanced back over at Mark's SUV. “Damn sight better than my car, this one. He was nice enough to let me drive it.”

“Oh. Well.” She deflated slightly. “You're welcome all the same.” She ushered them inside. They ended up in a neat hallway, being shepherded through to the kitchen. “Have you had morning tea?”

“Not yet, but I'd love some.” Especially after the dodgy eggs at the hotel. Mark sank down at the kitchen table, so Nicky sat next to him. “Only if it won't put you out, of course.”

“No, I've got some scones, I think, and...” She started rummaging through the pantry. Within minutes there was scones, jam, cream, and a pot of tea. It looked like mothers were universal – Nicky's own was able to put together an afternoon tea out of thin air and crumbs. It was a knack. “So what do you do, then, Nicky?”

“Oh... painter and decorater? There's a commercial project in the area I've been looking at.”

“Oh yes?”

“At... Roscommon. There's a Tesco there?” He didn't know if that was true, but experience said there was a Tesco bloody everywhere. She seemed to buy it. “I don't know if I'll take it. It's a bit of a hike. We ended up having to stop in Athlone for the night as it was. I get brutal migraines, and we were only an hour up the road. Mark was good enough to get us booked into a hotel.”

“Barry used to get migraines,” she said.  “Couldn't get him out of bed. Dreadful things.  Are you feeling better?”

“Much.” Nicky nodded. “Got myself into a dark room and had a sleep. It's all you can do when they hit. Felt much better this morning. I did try to argue, but Mark was right, you know?” Mark shot him a glare. Nicky stuck his tongue out when she turned her back. Mark kicked him under the table.

“Are you staying long?”

“Just the night, if that's alright,” Mark said.

“Just the one?”

“My fault, I'm sorry,” Nicky explained. “Have to get back for work.”

“Oh, of course. Well, why don't I give your brothers a call? We can have everyone round for dinner?” Mark nodded hesitantly. Nicky understood. If he started feeling ill again it was going to be hard to explain without people fussing.

They finished morning tea, then Mark took Nicky upstairs, got him set up in one of the spare bedrooms. It had obviously belonged to one of his brothers. There was still a single bed, a desk in the corner. Mark's room was similar. Nicky went to find him once he'd dumped his bag, leaning in the doorway and looking around.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks. For before.” He glanced furtively at the stairs. “Tesco?”

“Improv.” Nicky dusted his nails on his shirt. “Acting thing. You wouldn't understood.” Mark rolled his eyes. “What next, then? We go talk to Kian?”

“Yeah.” Mark sank down on the bed. Nicky sat beside him. “I really don't want to talk to him.”

“Why not?”

“Just...” Mark sighed. “It just... ended badly. I love him. I've always loved him, but... he drove me fucking nuts. I was never...” He swallowed. “Good enough, I guess. I don't know. He was really good at making me feel like shit without meaning to.”

“He sounds amazing.”

“He was,” Mark said softly. “He was my best friend. Last time... it's like we forget how shit things were every time we see each other. Until we remember, of course. Then it just sucks. He won't take this well. He'll blame me.”

Nicky put an arm around his shoulders. Mark leaned into it.

“Then he's a dick.” He heard Mark laugh softly. “Shall we get this out of the way? You don't want to do it after you take your medication, surely.”

“Mm.” Mark turned into his shoulder. Nicky kissed his hair. “Nicky?”

“Mm?”

“I'm glad I told you first.”

“Me too,” Nicky replied. “I'm glad you came to sit with me at the doctor's.”

“Me too.” Mark looked up. Nicky smiled, very aware of where Mark's lips were. His fingers drifted carefully through soft hair, feeling Mark push into them slightly. A hand settled on his back.

“Oh,” Nicky breathed. Mark swallowed, head tilting. Nicky tilted too.

“Mark!” They both jumped, groaning in frustration when they heard feet on the stairs. Nicky started to laugh. Mark put a hand over his mouth, his cheeks going pink. “Can you ask Nicky if...” She poked her head in, face going carefully straight when she saw them sitting together on the bed. Nicky realised his hand was still on the back of Mark's neck. He tried not too look too obvious about removing it, but her eyes followed it. “Sorry, love. Just wanted to see if you had enough blankets.”

“The room's perfect, Marie. Thank you.” He stood up. “I'm going to have a quick shower if you don't mind, actually? Bit grubby from the road.”

She said that was fine, of course. Asked him if there were enough towels. He shucked off his jeans and t-shirt once the door was closed and climbed in, feeling water rush hard and hot over his skin.

He leaned his forehead against the tiles, trying to forget the taste of hot breath on his mouth.

No. Stupid.

 

*

 

They headed back out after they got settled. Kian's place was on the other side of town, out near the beach, though it was only twenty minutes away. Nicky asked if he should come in. Mark said no, that he had better do this on his own. Nicky hugged him before he climbed out of the car, then sat back to watch him head up the path, knocking on the door.

The door opened a few moments later. A man stood there. Nicky couldn't see him that well, but he was blonde, about Mark's age, a little shorter with a stubbly beard and messy hair, dressed in jeans and a loose shirt.

Mark spoke to him for a second. He stepped inside.

The door closed.

Nicky turned on the radio and settled back to wait.

 

*

 

Mark came back out almost twenty minutes later. Nicky didn't see Kian. The door opened, then slammed shut behind him, Mark jumping slightly when it did. He came back, moving jerkily, and climbed back into the car.

“Okay?”

“Let's go.” Mark sniffed, wiping his nose.

“It didn't go well?”

“Just go, Nicky.” Mark looked out the window. Nicky hesitated, then did as he was told, wanting to touch Mark's shoulder but not able to with both hands on the wheel.

 

*

 

They were almost back to the house when Mark made him stop. He was climbing out before Nicky had had a chance to pull the handbrake, trotting down a slight embankment on the edge of the street. Nicky climbed out too. He found Mark just past the tree line, crouched down in the dirt, face buried in his arms.

Nicky sat down next to him, reaching out an arm until, after a long moment of tense silence, Mark sank into a hug.

“It's okay,” Nicky whispered. Mark shook his head. He wasn't crying. Nicky hadn't see him cry at all, really. Oh, he'd gotten upset, had teared up a bit, but apart from the night terrors Nicky hadn't seen a single tear fall. He smoothed his fingers through Mark's hair, kissing his forehead. The grass was a bit prickly under his arse, the earth soft around his shoes. He could smell water nearby.

“I'm tired,” Mark whispered.

“I know.” He ran his hand up Mark's back. “I know. You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“You want me to beat him up for you?”

“No.” Mark let out a small laugh, choked and wet. Nicky smiled. “I get it, you know? I knew he wouldn't take it well. He was upset. I just...” He let out a slow, shuddering breath. “After all this time, and what he thinks still matters to me. That's fucked. Why should I care? But...”

“What did he think?”

“That I...” Mark swallowed hard. “He was angry. He probably didn't mean it.”

“Mean what?”

“I...” Mark shook his head. “He's right. No-one will ever want me, will they? Not now. Because I'm an idiot. And even if they do, I've got no right...” He sucked in a breath. “I'm sorry about before. I... think I was going to kiss you. I don't want to hurt you.”

“You didn't...” Nicky sighed, wishing that he hadn't been thinking it himself. He liked Mark. A kiss wasn't just a kiss. It was a beginning. Something he didn't know that he could stop, or where he should stop it. It was horrible to think, but he was frightened. Of going that far. Condoms and common sense and everything else aside, and he was frightened. Had been since he'd recoiled from a puddle of vomit, since he'd thrown up himself, thinking of swallowing Mark's cum. He felt sick thinking about being with Mark.

“I won't do it again. I didn't mean to.”

“Mark...” Nicky hugged him tighter. “Of course someone's going to want you.” Just not me. It went unsaid, though it wasn't as true as he wanted it to be. Maybe this had been a mistake. Close proximity, getting to know the guy. Getting to realise that he made Nicky laugh, that he was kind and clever and wanted the same things Nicky did. That maybe skipping out on that one night stand had been the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

It was too late for that, though. Far too late.

“I can't do it. Be with someone else. I...” He shook his head. “I thought about killing myself, when they told me,” he whispered. Nicky felt his heart lurch.

“Mark...”

“I didn't. And not because... I didn't want to, but because I was frightened that whoever found me would get sick. That they might get my blood on them or something. I didn't want...” He pulled away. “Let me go. You shouldn't touch me.”

“I don't mind...” Mark had already stood up, though. Headed for the car. Nicky sighed and followed.

 

*

 

“Where's Mark?”

“Oh... he's just popped to the toilet.” It was the third time in an hour. Mark had been quiet since they'd gotten back, though he'd done a good job of hiding it. He looked tired, though. Detached. He took his medication after lunch, then they sat down in front of the television while Marie went to get a start on dinner for that night, despite Mark's protests that they could just order pizza or something.

He'd been fine for a bit. Not talkative, but fine. Then he'd excused himself, come back almost fifteen minutes later looking unwell. He was doing the same now. Nicky heard the toilet flush. Mark sank back down beside him.

“You alright, honey? You look a bit pale.”

“I'm okay.” Mark wiped his mouth. “Had a bit of a flu last week and I'm still getting over it.” She seemed to accept that. He went upstairs a little later to take a nap, leaving Nicky sat in front of the television. He followed soon after. Marie was fussing about in the kitchen, had refused his help, so there wasn't much else he could do.

He slipped into Mark's room. Mark was pretending to be asleep. It was cute, this grown bloody man with his eyes shut and the blankets pulled up, like he thought he was getting away with it. Nicky sank down next to him.

“Hi,” Nicky murmured. Mark shifted, opening his eyes. “How you feeling?”

“Just tired.” Nicky nodded. “You don't have to check on me. I'm okay.”

“I know, I just thought I'd come for a chat.” He patted Mark's hip. “Had a flu last week?”

“Improv. You wouldn't understand.”

“Twat,” Nicky laughed. Mark grinned weakly. “He's wrong, you know. You're fine.” He nudged Mark over and climbed into the bed, sure this wasn't his best idea, but not able to help it when he saw the disbelief in miserable blue eyes. Mark ended up squashed to his chest, the denim on Nicky's jeans sticking to the flannel on Mark's pyjamas. Mark's head nestled into his neck.

There was silence for a long time. Nicky didn't mind. He just lay there, feeling the heat from Mark's body, stroking his fingers up a long back, through dark hair. He'd thought for a second that Mark might have fallen asleep, but then he shifted slightly and Nicky knew he was just resting, his eyes closed and breathing so deliberate it had to be on purpose.

“When...” Mark swallowed. “When we broke up. Um.” He breathed out slowly. “I was so _angry_ , you know? He cheated on me and I didn't... it didn't go well. I said... some things.”

“Sounds like a break up to me.”

“Yeah,” Mark breathed. “I told him he was a slut, that I'd better not have caught anything off him fucking around. It was... at the time it made sense. I was hurt and I lashed out. I didn't...” He sighed. “I was going to say I didn't mean it, but I did. It was the first thing I was worried about. I was losing him after five years and I was totally heartbroken. I think it made it easier to leave, thinking that. Part of me thought I could have gotten past the cheating, maybe. I wanted a good reason not to want him any more. So what does that say about me, then? That I'd rather be with someone I don't trust than someone that...”

“You were angry.”

“I was. And I'm not saying he didn't say some things too. We both did. Then last year we ran into each other and... it felt okay again. We started talking about old times, and it felt good. Because I could remember why I'd loved him in the first place, why he'd loved me. I think part of me felt like this could be the start of something. Trying again, maybe. Anyway, we ended up getting drunk and going back to his, and it was... okay. But it wasn't great. Not really. I think that was when I realised it was really over. That whatever thing we'd had the first time just wasn't there any more. But I don't think he realised that. He started talking about visiting, and going out, and I just felt so bad, like I'd brought something back up that should have stayed in the past.

“He got upset, after that. Wouldn't talk to me. A couple of weeks later he came down to visit me – a surprise, I think it was, trying to patch things up – and I was shagging Kevin. He didn't catch us, like, but it was pretty obvious what we'd been doing.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Mark sighed. “I broke his heart a bit, I think. I didn't mean to, but I'd moved on, finally. That was my closure. And he said... that he hoped I was using a condom, if I was going to be fucking around half of Dublin. Then yesterday when I told him it was like I was the worst person in the world. And maybe it's fair, you know? I wouldn't have wanted him if he was sick. I used it as an excuse, and it was stupid and cruel.”

“You didn't know.”

“I didn't.” Mark looked up. Nicky smiled, stroking his hair. “I just wanted to find someone who wanted me, you know? And maybe I made some mistakes on the way, but the thing is I don't even know what the mistake _was_.”

“Who wouldn't want you?” Nicky kiss his forehead. “You're fine.”

“Do you want me?” Mark was going pink, but his voice was steady. Nicky looked back. “And I don't mean are we friends. I mean, if I went to get a condom right now would you let me fuck you?”

“I...” Nicky bit his lip. Mark stared at him for a long moment. Nicky tried to look back, but after a moment he had to break eye contact. Mark nodded.

“That's what I thought.”

“It's not...” He sighed. “Mark...”

“It's fine. I get it.” Mark settled back into his chest, closing his eyes. “I don't blame you. I would have been the same.”

“Mark...” He didn't know what to say, so he left it there.

They lay there for a long time, neither speaking, until eventually Nicky nodded off, Mark warm against his skin and a hand sat heavy on his chest.

 

*

 

The side-effects seemed to have lessened somewhat. Mark still looked pale, as they sat down in the living room, but he wasn't the complete disaster he had been. Nicky had slept a while. He wasn't sure if Mark had, but when he'd woken it had been to Mark climbing out and disappearing into the bathroom. When he came out he was freshly showered and dressed.

Mark's dad had come home while they'd been in bed. He seemed a nice man, friendly, and he shook Nicky's hand cheerfully and welcomed him. Nicky liked him immediately. Liked both of them, as well as Barry, Mark's brother, who showed up half an hour later, grinning at his brother and pulling him into a hug.

Marie went to answer another knock soon after. Nicky reached for a biscuit from the table, startled when he heard a sudden shriek, then saw a blur of blonde hair and pink dress streak across the room and into Mark's arms.

“Maaaark!”

“Millie!” He scooped her up. “Hiya.”

“Hiya.” She hugged him. Couldn't be older than two, her arms barely going around his neck. Her parents came in a minute later, Colin laughing when she clung to Mark tighter, one hand stuffing into her mouth. “Ups?”

“Ups.” He stood, and she squealed when he carefully flipped her up onto his shoulders, both her hands fisting in his hair.

“Don't fall!”

“Won't fall.” One hand was still steadying her. She grinned, legs kicking at his chest. Nicky laughed. “This is Nicky. Say hiya.”

“Hiya.” She waved a sticky hand. Nicky waved back. She laughed shyly, her hand going back to Mark's hair.

As far as introductions went, that was definitely the best of the night. The others were okay, too. They sat down for dinner, Millie squashed into a high-chair and all the adults chatting around the table while she tried to eat her peas through her nose. She took a liking to Nicky, babbling away at him and singing songs while he tried to play along at the same time as being involved in the conversation.

Mark got up to go to the bathroom a few times, but he always came back fairly quickly, picking at his plate and stirring the food more than he was eating it. He looked a little drawn, maybe a little thinner, though Nicky supposed that after three days of not keeping anything down it wasn't a surprise.

“You alright?” Barry asked, when Mark had just returned from another bathroom trip.

“Just getting over the flu.” Mark sat back down gingerly. “I'm okay.”

The night continued easily after that. By nine, though, Mark was starting to look pale, his eyes closing every few minutes, just for a moment. Millie was asleep too, conked out next to him. They made quite a pair. She woke for a moment when Marie went to get coffee, and crawled into Mark's lap, curling up against his chest. Nicky smiled. They were adorable.

He'd always liked kids. Part of him had always thought he'd have a couple, at least. His sister had three and he doted on them as well, but from the moment he'd come out he'd always felt like that option had been cleared. Swept off the table. Maybe it was partly that he was by himself, that he didn't exactly have time to be raising them on his own, but in the early days it had seemed impossible anyway. It had always felt like that thing he'd never be able to do. His mam didn't say it out loud, but he knew when he'd come out that she'd been disappointed for him.

He realised Mark was smiling at him. Nicky smiled back, glancing down at the sleeping bundle in his lap.

Mark had to excuse himself to the bathroom shortly after. He grudgingly picked Millie up and handed her back to Colin. Nicky took a sip of his coffee, nodding along to the conversation but feeling a bit adrift without Mark here. He'd been gone a few minutes when Nicky's phone dinged.

_Help?_

Nicky tried not to move so fast as to be suspicious while he headed up the stairs and into the hallway. He pushed open the bathroom door carefully.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Mark was sitting on the floor next to the toilet. “Got dizzy.”

“Oh.” Nicky crouched down next to him. “Want me to help you up?”

“In a minute.” He closed his eyes, breathing slowly. “It's not as bad, today. Like, I feel crap, but maybe I'm just getting used to it or something.”

“Doctor said it shouldn't be more than two weeks.”

“Yeah.” Mark opened his eyes as he exhaled. Nicky smiled. He was gorgeous, this boy. He didn't want to notice that, though it was impossible not to. Big blue eyes, full pink lips, dark hair and pale skin and the sweetest smile when Nicky touched his hand. “I'm... sorry. For what I said before about...” He blushed. “You know. Fucking you.”

“It's fine.” Nicky got up to get a wash-cloth and wet it, then began to wipe sweat off Mark's forehead, crouched down in front of him. Mark closed his eyes. “I enjoyed you fucking me.”

“Me too.” The smile that skated Mark's mouth was almost cheeky. “Bit nice.”

“I was raw the next day. Excellent blow job work, as well.”

“Thanks. Ditto.” Mark nudged him. “You did feel really good, though. You make pretty excellent faces.”

“Ditto,” Nicky chuckled. He had, though. Those full lips parted, eyes heavy and fluttering when Nicky had pushed down, squeezing onto Mark's cock and feeling him shudder, his own hands clawing at a strong back and...

No.

But god, that mouth on him. Sucking up his neck while his toes had curled and Mark had been right on the button every damn moment, making him shiver into his orgasm. Broken and hanging on, Mark letting out soft, croaking moans into his ear with every thrust, a hand slipping between them to urge him out and why hadn't he _stayed_?

“Nicky?”

“Huh?” He looked back at Mark, realising his eyes had gotten heavy at some point, that his jeans had as well, that his hand had stopped moving. He swallowed. Mark blinked back at him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He finished wiping Mark's face, then tossed the wash-cloth back into the sink. A hand took his. He squeezed it back. “Ready to go back down?”

“Yes please.” Mark planted one hand on the floor, Nicky holding the other one to steady him. They had him back on his feet quickly, Nicky's arm around his waist while Mark stood still to get his equilibrium, breathing slowly. Nicky pulled him a little tighter, felt a soft, warm body against his side, fingers on his hip. He wanted to draw into it, suddenly, nuzzle his face into Mark's chest and feel him, feel fingers on his back and on his arse, and run his hands over every inch of this gorgeous boy.

When he looked up Mark was looking back.

“I'm okay. You can let go.”

Nicky did, feeling himself blush.

They went back downstairs.

 


	7. Chapter 7

It was a bit strange, sleeping in a single again. At first he'd kept thinking he was going to fall off every time he rolled over, but once he got settled he was out, had crashed until the morning, soft and warm, the heat turned up in the house and the sound of Mark in the room across the hall soothing him to sleep.

Now he was awake. It was almost nine, the frost on the windows already melted to trickles, a patchy sunlight creeping through the glass. After a few minutes he pushed himself up, figuring it was probably a good idea to check on Mark. He'd considered sneaking over and sleeping in with him, just in case Mark had another bad night, but the bed was far too small for a proper sleep together, and he didn't want to risk Mark's parents coming in and finding them.

He'd had a nice night, all in all. Mark's family were welcoming, fun, and the food had been fairly excellent. They tried to do the same thing with his own family as often as possible, but it was always a fight trying to get everyone together when they all had their own lives. He wondered if Mark would like his family, if they'd like him too.

Which was an odd thing to think.

He knocked gently on Mark's door, pushed it open when nobody answered. The bed was empty, though, Mark's pyjamas piled on top of his bag.

Marie was sitting on the sofa in her slippers when he staggered downstairs, sort of watching a breakfast show, a magazine in her lap.

“Morning."

“Morning,” he yawned. “Overslept.”

“Mark only just got up himself.” She gestured at the kitchen. “There's a pot of coffee on if you like.” Nicky sighed gratefully. She chuckled. “Breakfast?”

“I'm okay.” He raked his hair back with both hands, thinking he probably looked a mess. “Where's Mark?”

“I think he went for a walk. Shouldn't be long.”

He thanked her, then grabbed a quick cup of coffee, taking it upstairs to the bedroom to get dressed and sort himself out. He had just finished pulling on his jeans, was spraying some deodorant on, when he looked out the window and saw a Mark-shaped silhouette down the back of the garden, sat on a crumbling stone wall.

Mark was still there once he'd finished his coffee and combed his hair, so he went to investigate, leaving his mug in the sink as he passed through the kitchen.

It was cold outside. He pulled his coat tighter, feeling his cheeks sting. By the time he made it to the wall he was shivering.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Nicky replied, pulling his coat tighter and wishing he'd brought a scarf. He leaned against the wall, looking out across the fields. “Sleep okay?”

“Not bad.” Mark yawned. His eyes looked tired, though, ringed and red. “Woke up a few times.”

“Nightmares?”

“Couple.” A hand reached down to rest briefly on Nicky's shoulder before pulling away. “My stomach's a bit better.”

“Good.” Nicky looked up. “What's the plan?”

“Hang out here for a few more hours, then back on the road. London's next, so I figure if we get back to Dublin this afternoon I can get a ferry in the morning.”

“Sounds good. You don't want to fly?”

“Figure ferry's safer. I don't want to be stuck on an airplane feeling sick. At least on a boat I can move around. Then I just have to drive from Holyhead to London. Should be there by tomorrow afternoon, I can see Kevin, then maybe check into a hotel for the night.”

“Sounds like a plan. I don't need a passport for any of that, do I?”

“You're coming to London?”

Nicky looked up. He hadn't considered not going. Somewhere along the line this had turned into a thing they were doing together. Mark was looking back at him, though, more surprised than Nicky had expected.

“Did you not want me to?”

“I...” Mark shrugged. “I hadn't thought about it. I can probably take care of myself okay.” He bit his lip, looking back out at the fields.

“I don't have to come if you don't want me to.” He wanted to, though. Didn't know why. By all accounts this was inconvenient and silly, following this lad all over the country while he did something that was probably intensely personal. But he'd enjoyed Mark's company, and part of him, was frightened that once they parted ways it would be over, forgotten as a weird moment, just like it had been last time.

He didn't want to forget Mark. Not again.

“Nicky?”

“Yeah?”

Mark hopped down off the wall, and in a moment he was standing in front of Nicky, warm and big, smelling like softness and heat.

“I wouldn't mind if you came with me.”

“Okay, then.” Nicky touched his hand. Mark smiled bashfully back, his fingers finding Nicky's and entwining. “Mark?” He'd moved closer without realising it. Soft lips, slightly parted, eyes watching him carefully. Nicky blinked. Wished he didn't feel hot. That the feel of Mark's coat sleeve brushing his hand wasn't making his knees buckle slightly.

“We'd better head back,” Mark murmured. Nicky nodded. “Erm...”

“Erm.” Nicky swallowed, then, knowing he had to do bloody something, pulled Mark into a hug. It was chaste hug, quick and platonic. He felt Mark stiffen with surprise, then sink into it for a moment before Nicky pulled away. They looked at each other awkwardly.

“Come on,” Mark said finally. “I need a coffee.”

 

*

 

After a quick breakfast they started to pack up the car. Mark was looking better, less pale and with more colour in his cheeks, his eyes bright as he wandered up the drive with his bag in his hand, moving for once like he wasn't being weighed down by exhaustion, his steps easy. Nicky smiled at him, shoving his own bag aside.

“Is that everything?”

“Think so.” Mark pushed his bag in, wiggling it to fit. Nicky pulled the boot closed with a thud and a click. It was almost noon. They'd had breakfast, just some fruit and toast after the big meal last night, then started getting their things together. Nicky hated to admit it, but more than once he'd drifted while he'd been packing his suitcase, getting lost when Mark would look up and smile at him.

“Mark?”

They both looked around. There were two men coming up the drive, feet crunching on gravel. One was moving steadily, short and skinny with dark hair and high cheekbones, a scarf wrapped around his neck. The other was looking more reluctant, a beanie pulled down over blonde hair.

“Kian?”

“Hey.” They stopped. Nicky didn't miss the curious glance that got shot towards him from two sets of eyes, one blue, one hazel. “Erm... you're heading off, then?”

“Uh... yeah.” Mark patted the SUV. “Just about to.”

“Oh.” He shuffled his feet, then started to turn back around. “It's fine then. I don't want to keep you.”

“Kian,” the other man scolded, a hand reaching out to grab his arm. “Hey, Mark.”

“Shane.” Mark was probably trying to smile. It was hard to tell, underneath the awkward grimace. Kian was mirroring it. They both looked ridiculously uncomfortable. Nicky wanted to laugh, all of a sudden. Shane glanced at him again.

“Can we talk?” Kian blurted suddenly. Mark didn't reply. “Just... for a minute. Before you leave. If that's...” His hands were fidgeting. “Please.”

“Erm...” Mark looked like he was going to say no, but then he shrugged, and gestured off to the side of the house. They wandered off, both of them trudging along, while Nicky stood awkwardly against the side of the car with Shane.

“Sorry.” A hand stuck out. “Shane.”

“Nicky.” He shook it. Shane smiled. “Erm...”

“Sorry, we're probably holding you up.” Nicky shrugged. It wasn't untrue, but he supposed he wasn't in a rush or anything. He was more worried about Mark, honestly. He hadn't looked happy about this at all, and with what he'd said Nicky didn't want Kian upsetting him. Not that it was his business. Mark was an adult. Nicky was sure he could have a conversation with his ex-boyfriend without needing a human shield.

He wanted to go over there and make sure Mark was okay.

“It's fine.” Nicky glanced over his shoulder. They were almost out of view beside the house but Kian was gesturing, Mark scratching the back of his neck and nodding.

“You're his boyfriend, or?”

“Oh... no.” Nicky shook his head. “Just... friends, I guess.” He wasn't getting into the whole weird history with this guy, anyway.

“Oh. Right.” Shane nodded. “You're from Dublin, then? Kian said Mark lives there now.”

“Yeah. I mean, we haven't known each other that long.”

“I knew him when we were kids,” Shane explained. “It was always the three of us, in highschool. We kind of drifted apart after that.” It was more than that, though. Nicky could see it already. He wondered if this was the friend, the one Kian had cheated with. Because as far as drifting apart went, it seemed like Shane and Kian were still fairly close. “Is...” He hesitated, looked like he wasn't sure whether to say the next bit. “Is Mark okay?”

“Kian told you.” Shane shrugged. “He's fine.”

“Because from what Kian was saying...”

“He's fine,” Nicky said again. It wasn't his place to say anything else, anyway. Certainly not about the night terrors and vomiting and diarrhoea and dizziness and fatigue and suicidal thoughts and every other fucking thing Mark was going through. “We're working through it.”

“We?”

“He's my friend.”

“Oh.” Shane nodded. “Well... good. I'm glad he's got, you know...” He gestured vaguely. “Someone.”

“Yeah.” He looked over again. Mark was the one gesturing now. Kian was shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. “So, Kian's his ex?”

“What did he tell you?"

“Some stuff.” Nicky shrugged. “That they broke up like ten years ago.”

Shane sighed. “Officially, they did. It was one of those... I don't know. Tumultuous romance things? If you want the textbook definition of carrying a torch, there'd be a picture of Kian. They were never good for each other, don't get me wrong, but when they were together there definitely wasn't room for anyone else. It was like a bubble.”

“Mark said Kian cheated on him.”

Shane snorted. Something flashed behind his eyes, though, something small and hurt. “I don't think it was so much cheating as trying to make a clean break, you know? They were ending anyway, and Kian's never been very good at being on his own. Mark's always been happier in his own company, but I think Kian needed... someone.” Shane sighed. “I don't think he meant to be the bad guy, not to... either of them.” Shane looked down at his feet, which were scuffing slightly in the dirt. “Anyway. That was years ago.”

“You're still friends, though?”

“He's my best friend.” A small smile stole over Shane's mouth, one that was soft and sad. “He showed up at mine last night, totally hysterical. Not that I told you that.” Nicky nodded. “I think he said some pretty awful stuff to Mark. I didn't want him to leave it like that, you know? He thinks it's fine now, but it'll eat at him.” And keep Mark on his mind. He could see it without Shane saying anything. “Mark's...” Shane bit his lip. “He's going to be okay, right? Like, honestly?”

“He's going to be okay,” Nicky promised. “He's started on medication this week, and the side effects are brutal, but after that the doctor says if he stays healthy and takes care of himself he'll just be... normal, more or less.”

“How did he...?”

“We don't know,” Nicky admitted. “We're working through everyone he's slept with in the last year or so, trying to let them know to get tested. That's why we came up here, mostly, so he could give Kian the heads up. Then it turned into...” He gestured over to Kian and Mark, who were still talking, both of them looking slightly less guarded. When he looked back, Shane's face was surprised.

“Mark and Kian slept together in the last year?”

“You didn't know?” Nicky felt himself go pink, thinking he probably shouldn't have said anything. He'd just assumed with Kian showing up at Shane's and everything that was happening this morning that he must have been in the loop. “Whoops.”

“Did they?”

“Yeah,” Nicky admitted. “Last year sometime. Mark visited for a wedding or something?”

“Oh.” Shane's foot kicked gravel, eyes turning to the ground. “Right.”

“I thought you knew. I shouldn't have said.”

“It's fine. I won't say...” Shane glanced over Nicky's shoulder at the two men beside the house. He sighed. “Right.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah.” He saw Shane's hands clench into fists. “Well. Don't know what I expected, really. You fall for someone as hard as they did, it's not like you just stop...” He bit his lip, then his eyes widened. When Nicky looked around Kian was leaning up to kiss Mark, a hand hooked around the back of his neck, mouth parted.

Nicky felt his stomach twist, a yanking knot when he saw Mark's hand close on Kian's hip, head tilting. Kian's arm went around his shoulders, pulling him down a little more as they connected. All the air went out of Nicky's lungs. Behind him, he heard Shane gasp.

He took a step towards them, not sure what he intended to do. It wasn't like he could pull Kian off, get between them, yank Mark into a kiss instead. That would be bloody stupid, make absolutely no sense, but he took another step anyway, his heart in his mouth.

Mark pushed Kian away.

He was shaking his head. Kian was crying. Mark wasn't, but he pulled Kian into a careful hug, looking fragile himself. Nicky saw him kiss Kian's shoulder, say something soft. Kian nodded, and when he pulled away he was wiping his eyes.

Nicky turned back to look at Shane. At a flat hazel gaze, hands deep in his pockets and mouth pursed into a line.

They didn't speak again. After a few minutes Kian came back over, tugged Shane's arm, and said they were going. Shane followed, trudging back up the path after him. Mark went back into the house.

Nicky followed.

They said goodbye to Mark's parents, Mark smiling cheerfully like nothing had happened, giving them both hugs. Nicky got a hug from Marie, a handshake from Oliver, and was told to visit again whenever he liked, Marie shooting meaningful glances at Mark. Nicky said he would, thanked them for their hospitality, and accepted some banana bread for the road.

They left in silence. By the time Nicky went to say something, they were almost on the motorway, but when he turned to look at Mark all he got was closed eyes.

He knew Mark was pretending to be asleep, but Nicky didn't pretend to wake him. There was plenty of time, and they had a long drive ahead of them.

 

*

 

They didn't talk about it. When Mark pretended to wake up, eventually, he turned on the radio, turned it up just loud enough that they couldn't really talk. They made idle conversation, pointing out random things they were passing or laughing at the DJs, but it felt forced and distant, and Mark wouldn't look at him.

They made it back to Dublin early in the afternoon. They unpacked the SUV in silence, Nicky tossing everything back into his own car, then pulling it out so Mark could get back into his parking spot. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to come upstairs. They lingered on the driveway for a long moment, Mark's bag on the cement next to him.

“So... thanks for everything,” Mark said. Goodbye pleasantries. Nicky got it. “I'm sorry, it was probably a bit depressing.”

“Not at all. I had a good time.” He touched Mark's arm, got a weak smile in reply. “What time are we headed off tomorrow?”

“Erm...” Mark shrugged. “Tennish, I guess? If you still want to...”

“If you still want me to.”

“Yeah.” Mark's hands dug into his pockets. “Okay, then. I can pick you up?”

“Tomorrow,” Nicky agreed. “Want me to bring anything?”

“Only if there's something you want. I'd better get inside, anyway. I have to take my...” He gestured. “You know.”

“You'll be alright?”

“Yes.” Mark bent to get his back. “Thanks again, Nicky.” He headed towards the front door. Nicky watched him disappear through it, feeling like something had been taken from him, suddenly. Something small but important that felt bigger once it was missing.

His own flat was the same as he'd left it. He tipped the contents of his bag into the washing machine and got that sorted, then had a bit of a tidy, got the bins out, and made a late lunch. He felt adrift. The house was too quiet. He turned on the TV while he ate, smiling to himself when he found a repeat of Eggheads, wondering if Mark was watching it too, or if he was feeling unwell, over there by himself.

He thought about calling to check on him. Decided not to. If Mark wanted him, he'd call. There was no point getting weird and clingy. It wasn't like they were dating or anything. They'd shared a strange three days, a brief, meaningless fuck, and some odd conversation about nothing in particular.

Mark would be perfectly okay without him.

 

*

 

It was late. Nicky had slept, sort of. He'd gone to bed before ten, had felt suddenly, intensely tired, the last few days having finally caught up on him. Now it was almost two in the morning and he was staring at the ceiling, wide awake. Counting sheep had been bloody useless, and anyway, he'd seen enough sheep on the road trip to last a life time.

He got up, had a glass of water, pottered around, then sank back into bed, thinking he'd give the sleep thing another go. He knew what he usually did when he needed to relax, but right now he didn't know if that was an option. Mostly because he knew exactly where his mind would wander if he did.

He didn't want to. Didn't want to think of Mark like that, like he'd been then. When he'd been a chivalrous stranger Nicky had had a laugh with at a bar, who hadn't meant much to him except being a funny story to tell his mates one day. He wanted to think about Mark now. About this warm, kind, sexy man he'd shared a hotel room with, talked to about things from his past he didn't discuss with anyone. Who had sat with him in a doctor's waiting room because Nicky needed comfort when Mark was probably the one who had been scared out of his mind.

But Mark now wasn't the same as Mark then. Mark then had been safe, easy, something he could throw away without worrying too much about the consequences. Mark now was complicated and came saddled with something Nicky didn't know if he could get past. Not enough to do the sorts of things he knew he'd think about if he allowed himself the indulgence tonight. Even though his body was already responding, thinking about the possibility.

His hand snuck into his boxers, finding half-hard flesh. He groaned, eyes shutting, determined not to let this train of thought continue. Clear mind, focusing on the physical feeling of his own grip. He added some lube from the bottle in the bedside drawer, and _that_ was better, the slick slide a shock of pleasure, blocking out everything else.

“Oh,” he whispered to himself. Hissed through his teeth. Moved his hand a little faster, twisting his wrist, and there was something pure and perfect about doing it yourself, knowing what you wanted and how fast to go and where to touch and _there_ was good. He groaned, back arching slightly off the bed. Tightened his grip.

“ _Come with me,”_ Mark murmured, kissing down his throat. Nicky groaned, trying to shove that image away. His own hand, alone, in his bed. _“Do you want me?”_

He did. Fuck, he did. That soft mouth, parting carefully. _Knowing_ that one of them had been about to kiss the other. More than once, too. There was something there. Something electric and perfect and Nicky _wanted_.

“ _Would you let me fuck you?_ ”

“Oh god,” Nicky gasped. He didn't know how to answer that, but his hand was moving faster and god, the way Mark blushed. Sweet and pink, blue eyes shy, but so intense at the same time. A hand entwining with his, thick talented fingers and god, oh...

“ _Nicky...”_ Mark breathed. _“Nicky..._ ”

His hand moved faster, eyes closed and feeling fingers squeeze on him, the way Mark had grunted hot and harsh in his ear while he'd fucked inside, spreading him open, biting up his throat while Nicky had clawed and gasped and he'd just...

He'd...

He'd left.

Snuck out of the building without even saying goodbye. Mark had wanted him to stay. Wanted to see him again, and instead Nicky had gone, had done what he'd thought he was supposed to. Listened to the part of his brain that was too much common sense and maybe a little bit embarrassed and tired and thinking about needing to get to work, instead of listening to the soft, warm place in his heart that had been kissed slowly down, strong arms wrapped around him. It had been...

He came with a cry. Didn't bother to pretend Mark's name wasn't ringing in his head.

He went to wipe himself up, then climbed back into bed, his mind tripping over itself to the beat of his whole body humming.

Within five minutes he was asleep.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Mark pulled up a little late, around ten-thirty. Nicky hated himself for thinking it, but part of him had started to convince himself that Mark wasn't coming, that he'd gone without Nicky, especially after the awkward goodbye the day before. Part of him was more worried that something had happened, that Mark wasn't well and that no-one had been there to take care of him, or worse, that he'd done something drastic.

The honk came just as he'd been about to call, and he sagged with relief, peering out the window to see a silver Range Rover parked in the drive. He grabbed his bag, clothes washed and some fresh toiletries packed, though they were probably only going to be a night. You never knew, though. The trip to Sligo had been extended with Mark being ill.

Nicky felt awful, but part of him wanted something to happen again. Something that would make the trip go on that little bit longer.

Part of him wanted nothing to happen. For it to go on longer anyway, because Mark wanted to spend time with him.

Part of him knew he still had to be at work on Wednesday.

There were a lot of parts of him. He suspected most of them were complete bastards.

He tossed his bag into the back, then climbed up into the passenger seat. Mark gave him a smile that was trying too hard to be steady and welcoming. Nicky smiled back.

They got on the road quickly. The port wasn't that far away, but the ferry wasn't due for another forty-five minutes, so they sat down to get some brunch, settling in a cafe near the water. It was pretty, the port busy and industrial on the other side, but on this side it was clear, the sea stretching out to the distance. When he looked back, Mark was staring out at the water.

“Alright?”

“Yeah.” Mark tore the corner off his pastry and started to nibble at it, looking disinterested. Nicky nudged him gently under the table, his foot finding Mark's.

“You're very quiet.”

“Just tired.” He began to fiddle with his pastry again. “Been kind of a messed up week.”

“I know.” Nicky reached out again, kicking gently against Mark's ankle. He saw a half-smile sneak into the corner of Mark's mouth, so he did it again, smirking when Mark kicked him back.

“Dickhead.”

Nicky chuckled, kicking him again, felt Mark dodge it, then the toe of a sneaker collide with his shin. Mark laughed, just slightly, eyes crinkling. Nicky grinned.

“You sleep okay?”

“Eh...” Mark gestured, hand see-sawing above the table. “Not awful. I wasn't sick last night, which was something. Just... like I was really tired but not sleepy, if you know what I mean? Like all my bones were too heavy.”

“Feel better now?”

“I'll feel better once this is over and done with,” he sighed. “I think my biggest regret is that I never found Stephen, you know? Like, I know where Kevin lives, and even though I'm not looking forward to it at least I know it'll be done either way. I tried everything. I even looked in the phone book – I had to go to the library to find one.”

“Nothing?”

“Not a thing.” Mark shook his head. “Nothing online... he's a mystery. Maybe it was him, or maybe it wasn't. Or maybe he's sick now because of me and I'll just... never know.”

“It wouldn't be your fault.”

“It's not anyone's fault. That's probably what makes it hardest, you know? It's all just chance, and you think you've done everything you can, but in the end...” Mark bit his lip. Nicky reached across the table, gathering up a hand slightly sticky from the pastry. Mark looked down at their shared grip, then up, eyes questioning.

There was a sudden loud honk. Nicky jumped, dropping Mark's hand, then looked around, realising it was the ferry pulling in. Mark snorted a laugh.

“That's us.” He shoved his phone and wallet in his pocket, then grabbed the pastry. Nicky followed, thinking it would be a stupid idea to take Mark's hand again. Wanting to anyway, when Mark glanced over at him just as they started to cross back to the car again, a smile drifting across his mouth.

Nicky smiled back, thrusting his hands in his pockets.

 

*

 

“So tell me about this guy we're going to see.”

Mark snorted, leaning on the railing. They'd climbed out of the car once they'd parked, neither of them content with sitting for two hours when they could be out stretching their legs in the sea air. They'd set off ten minutes after that, and for a while they'd wandered around, looking at nothing much. Nicky's hand had brushed Mark's occasionally, Mark's had brushed back, but otherwise they'd just chatted quietly, Mark getting a little more talkative.

Now they were stood near the back watching foam sluice behind them, their backs turned to the morning sun. Nicky stretched, feeling wind whip through his hair.

“Kevin.” Mark shook his head. “What did you want to know?”

“Who is he? Where did you meet?” Nicky nudged him. “Obvious stuff. He's not one of those weirdos who hangs the toilet paper backwards, is he?”

“Not to my knowledge. Dealbreaker, that,” Mark chuckled. “Um... so remember when I said I went to Sligo for a wedding?” Nicky nodded. “He was the photographer there.”

“Ooh...” Nicky chuckled. “And?”

“And... I dunno. I'd just gotten there, and Kian was there, and it was just... awkward. So I ended up standing off by myself at the reception, having a few drinks, and we just got to chatting. We were both living in Dublin and I was a bit drunk so I gave him my number. Anyway, later on Kian was a bit drunk too and we ended up sleeping together. A couple of days later Kevin called me.”

“How long did you go out?”

“About six months. He knew he was moving at that stage, so it was never all that serious. He's from Newcastle originally, and his family's all in the UK, but he'd moved over to Dublin to be with some guy and had gotten work, so when they broke up he stayed on for a bit. We were both on the rebound. We liked each other, and we weren't seeing other people, but we knew it wasn't going to last. He was good laugh.”

“Were you happy?”

“Happier, I guess? I don't really know.” Mark shrugged. “I think as I get older, and everyone else is settling down and stuff I just wonder what I'm doing with my life. Like, every time I settle for someone I know isn't the one, I'm just running out of time.”

“Tell me about it,” Nicky sighed. “You know I haven't been in a serious relationship since I turned thirty?” Mark looked surprised. “Not one. Like, I've dated guys, and once or twice we've been exclusive, I suppose, but never...” He leaned on the railing next to Mark. “Before that I was with this lad for two years. George. But... it never felt like something that was going to be more. We hadn't even talked about moving in together, or any of that. It just felt like we were dating for a really long time.”

“Yeah, but then if you break up with them there you are back at square one,” Mark added. “And even if you get past the dating, it's a year at least until you move in together, and then maybe two years after that you might talk about marriage, and two years later you might actually do it, and maybe you want kids, and that's the whole adoption process or surrogacy or whatever, and I'm already thirty five, so if I fuck up at any point or it turns out the person's wrong for me I'm all the way back at dating again.”

“I'm thirty-seven,” Nicky pointed out. “I'm practically forty. That's tragic.”

“You look good, though. I'm the one who has to lose ten pounds, and even if I do, the drugs are apparently going to make me put on weight in weird places until I look like a pear with legs.”

“You think I look good?”

“Fuck off.” Mark elbowed him. He was blushing. “Hit on you, didn't I?”

“Well, I am a five star hooker.”

“Escort,” Mark corrected him, winking. “Should have splashed for the boyfriend experience.”

“Should have?”

Mark went pink, looking away. Nicky felt his heart flutter and looked away himself, staring down at the raging foam cutting through the waves. They stood there in silence for a while, Nicky listening to Mark breathing over the rush of the water, the burble of other people milling around the boat.

He looked up when a hand carefully covered his, curling around his fingers on the railing.

“Do...”

“Let's... not talk about it,” Mark said, his voice soft but firm. Nicky nodded slowly, shifting his fingers so Mark's slipped in between them. He saw Mark go redder, and smiled, stepping closer until he could feel a shoulder against his through their coats.

“Nice view,” Nicky said. Mark snorted.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It's okay.”

 

*

 

The rest of the trip passed much quicker than Nicky wanted it to. Eventually they went for another walk around the ferry, just wandering and chatting, Mark stopping to look at a really beautiful BMW parked on one of the upper decks. And through the whole thing, Mark's hand in his, letting go occasionally but always drifting back, their fingers locking together.

It took them a while to get off the ferry. They were stuck up the back and had to wait for everyone else to disembark. Half an hour after they landed they finally eased off the ramp and headed for the motorway, Mark in the driver's seat.

Wales was pretty. Once they cleared Holyhead it was beautiful driving along the coast, making fun of unpronounceable towns with far too few vowels in their names. By the time they were passing Liverpool and starting to head south it was almost lunch, so they stopped, climbing out of the car to stretch their legs.

Mark's hand slipped into his again. Nicky squeezed it, trying not to smile too broadly.

“What did you want to eat?”

“Don't mind.” Nicky yawned. It was just a large village off the motorway, a couple of shops and restaurants dotted along the main street. “What do you feel like? Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Mark admitted. “Bit worried I won't be able to keep it down, but I think this is the first time I've felt properly hungry all week. Could really go a burger .”

That sounded fantastic. Nicky found a place and took great delight in watching Mark dig into an enormous beef burger, salad and cheese spilling out the sides, a huge serve of chips between them. They both managed to eat most of it together, Nicky having an enormous chicken burger and picking at the chips until eventually it was just a mess of sauce and salt, Mark wiping his mouth and looking much happier. Nicky kicked his foot under the table. Mark kicked it back, smirking.

“Doctor probably won't be pleased I did that.”

“You can come to the gym with me next week if you like?” Nicky offered. “Even it out.”

“I hate the gym.”

“Who doesn't?” Nicky rolled his eyes. “Come on. I get a free month if I introduce a new member.”

“You're using me for free spin classes?”

“It was my plan all along. I've been playing you since that night at the bar.”

“Should've known,” Mark chuckled. “Okay, next week I gym. New experiences, even at my age.”

“Proud of you.” Nicky nudged him again. “You'll be the healthiest bastard on the planet. I'll make sure of it, even if it kills you.”

“That's comforting,” Mark snorted. “You taking care of me?”

“Sure. Why not.” He felt a foot kick his lightly, and smiled back. “If you want.”

“I'm an adult, you know. I don't need minding.”

“I do. I'm terrible at being an adult. If I take you to the gym, then I have to go. If I make you eat properly, then I have to do it as well. Take you to all your doctor's visits too, if you want. Then I have to get my check ups.”

“So it's all about you?”

“Obviously.”

“Well, glad we cleared that up.” Mark rolled his eyes. “How you gonna make sure I do it?”

“Regular check ins.”

“How regular?”

“At least twice a week. Maybe three times.”

“Seems fair.” They smiled at each other warily, Nicky feeling his heart beating a little faster. “We should probably get a move on.”

“Yeah,” Nicky agreed. He didn't want to stand up, though, not with Mark's foot still touching his ankle. He reached across the table, then, and took Mark's hand. Mark looked at him curiously. “You're going to be fine, okay?”

“Will I?”

“Definitely.” Nicky lifted the hand to his mouth, kissed the back of square knuckles. Mark blinked. Nicky let go, not sure why he'd done that, just knowing he'd had to. Pink cheeks went pinker, both of them smiling. “Get a move on?”

“Yeah.” Mark stood up. “Come on.”

 

*

 

Nicky peered out the window, looking at the small, worn houses they were passing. It wasn't an especially nice area of Outer London, maybe twenty miles to the west of the city. Not terrible either – it was neat and clean – but the houses were crowded too close and cement eclipsed what little grass he could see.

Mark had called Kevin from a service station to let him know they were coming. Kevin had said that would be fine, apparently, because Mark had been laughing slightly on the phone, looking nervous but fond of the boy on the other end. Nicky wasn't sure why that made him rankle, why he didn't like Kevin already, but he pushed it aside and reminded Mark to take his pills before they set off again.

They turned a corner, Mark peering out the windows at house numbers until at last they stopped in front of a small brick apartment building.

“This it?”

“Think so.” Mark looked at Nicky. “Come in?”

“Sure.” Nicky climbed out, taking Mark's hand when they met on the other side of the car. Mark hit the buzzer.

“Hiya?”

“Hey, it's me.” The door clicked. Mark pushed it open, and they headed up the stairs together, Nicky remembering helping Mark up a set of stairs like this only a few days before, stopping on the third floor to let him get his breath. Now he was climbing steadily, though his hand was a little sweaty in Nicky's grip, his steps hesitant.

Kevin hugged Mark when they got to the door. He was an attractive lad, maybe a couple of years younger than Mark, with a strong jaw, cheeky eyes, and what Nicky had to admit was a pretty excellent build under a tight t-shirt and jeans; broad shoulders, bulging arms and a narrow waist. He thought he was pretty proud of Mark for bagging this one. He was definitely gorgeous.

Mark introduced Nicky. Kevin didn't seem put off, just invited them in and put the kettle on, asking if Nicky wanted sugar or milk. Within minutes they were sat in a tidy living room, steaming mugs in front of them.

“This is a surprise,” Kevin said, relaxing back in his chair, mug rested against his chest.

“Yeah, sorry it's short notice.” Mark put down his tea. “How've you been?”

“Same old. This is temporary.” He gestured around at the flat. There was a desk in the corner, photographs hung on pegs above it, dangling on slouched fishing line. Some were black and white, some colour. Nicky couldn't see them very well from here. They looked professional though, clean lines, light and shadow. “I'm moving a bit closer to the city soon, once I find a place.”

“This is nice,” Mark said diplomatically.

“No space for a dark room, though. It's driving me nuts. I keep having to go round a friend's place to get anything done.” Kevin rolled his eyes. “Anyway. How are you? Haven't heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, been busy.” Mark hesitated. Nicky wanted to take his hand, but didn't know if Mark would want him to. He put down his tea instead, in case he was needed. “Which is sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. Um.” He scratched the back of his neck, mouth twisting nervously. “So... I went to the doctors last week and um...” Nicky could see Kevin's face twisting with concern.

“Oh god, it's not cancer?” Kevin covered his mouth. “Jesus, Marky...”

“No, not...” Mark bit his lip. “Not cancer. It...” He glanced at Nicky. “Erm... I'm HIV positive.”

Kevin's face froze. It was a bit horrible to watch, like he'd been paused, just totally stopped. Then he swallowed slowly. Blinked. His hand dropped to his lap.

“You're joking.”

“No.” Mark sighed. “I just... I wanted to let you know in case...” Kevin was still staring in horror. “In case you need to get tested? I don't know how long, and you were the last person I slept with, so...”

“You think I gave it to you?”

“No. I don't know. We don't...” Kevin was moving carefully, putting his tea back on the coffee table, though his eyes were bright with worry. “Have you been tested? Like since...”

“I... no. I mean, I did, like just after we started going out, but I haven't since we...” Kevin's hand went back to his mouth, then ran feverishly through short brown hair. “We were safe, right?”

“You're probably fine,” Nicky piped up. “Honestly. If you used a condom and everything. We're just covering bases in case.” He almost laughed, thinking that Mark had been basically telling him the same thing less than a week before. Less than a week. It seemed mad, with so much happening. Seemed crazy that he'd only known Mark that long, considering the way Nicky was starting to feel about him.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that's pretty much what I said,” Nicky said. “I was fine, though.”

Kevin glanced at him. Nicky shrugged, knowing Kevin was wondering who the fuck he even was, just showing up with his ex out of the blue.

“I need to get tested.”

“We can go to the doctor's with you, if you want,” Mark offered. “They can just do a quick check, like half an hour. I wouldn't worry too much.” Kevin rolled his eyes, like it was too late for that. Nicky knew how he felt. “You're probably fine.”

Kevin stood up and went to tip his tea down the sink. Nicky saw his hands tremble, saw Mark move to stand as well.

“I'm going to call my doctor. You...” Kevin motioned at them. “Just wait there.” He disappeared into the bedroom. Nicky looked at Mark.

“He's probably fine.”

“Yeah.” Mark bit his lip. “Probably.”

 

*

 

There were no shrieking children this time. Kevin managed to get in fairly quickly. Mark and Nicky drove him to the doctor's, Kevin fidgeting in the passenger seat while Nicky sat in the back, feeling odd being behind Mark for once. Though every now and then he'd see eyes glance up through the rear view mirror at him and he'd smile back, trying to look comforting, reaching forward to rest his hand on a broad shoulder.

Kevin didn't want them to come in with him, which Nicky could more than understand. They sat in the waiting room instead, Mark flicking absently through a gossip mag, eyes blank. Nicky put a hand on his knee.

“Where are we staying tonight?”

“Not sure yet.” Mark didn't look up. “Find a motel or something, I think? Even if we start driving back now we'll never make the last ferry.” It was true. It was almost five in the afternoon, and it'd be dark before they even made it to Oxford. At any rate they'd be here for at least another half hour waiting for the results and if they went badly there was no telling how long they'd be.

Kevin came back out, sat down silently. He didn't speak, just sat playing with his phone. Nicky understood. Within half an hour he was called back in.

“He'll be okay,” Nicky murmured.

He was. He came out looking nerve-shot but relieved. Mark got up to hug him. Kevin accepted it, kissing Mark's cheek gently. Nicky felt a surge of jealousy. When they parted, Mark's hand was on Kevin's shoulder.

“All fine?”

“All fine.” Kevin nodded. “Thank fuck.” He winced slightly. “No offence.”

“No. I get it.” Mark didn't look hurt, but there was something in his eyes, something resigned, like the worst had already happened and he was starting to accept it. That a lot of people's biggest fears had already become his reality. Nicky wanted to hug him badly. Instead he took Mark's hand, smiling at Kevin.

“Hey, good news,” he offered. Kevin nodded.

“Yeah, it is. I...” He smiled weakly. “Anyway, I need a drink. Swing by the shops on the way home?”

Mark said that sounded like a plan. Nicky agreed that it did.

He climbed into the back seat of the car again, watching Mark carefully through the rear view mirror.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Kevin was actually a really cool guy. Nicky could see why Mark had liked him. After all the weirdness of the day he chilled out a lot, especially once they got a few bottles of spirits, Mark stalking the racks and grabbing things one by one, looking like he knew exactly what he was doing. Which, Nicky supposed, he probably did.

He was in the kitchen now, mixing cocktails while Nicky and Kevin worked their way through a packet of crisps and finished off a couple of beers. Kevin had offered the sofa for them to sleep on. It was a pull-out, a bit rickety, salvaged from a garage sale, but it seemed perfectly fine and it saved them having to find a motel.

“What are you making?” Kevin called, leaning over the back of the sofa.

“You'll like it.” Mark flipped the top off a bottle of vodka. “You still like Kahlua, yeah?”

“You know I do.” Kevin paused. “Are you allowed to drink, actually? Aren't you on medication?”

“I can have one or two. I've been a bit sick the last couple of days, so I'm enjoying being well while I can.” He started to screw the top off a bottle of coke. “Nicky's been watching me puke my guts up all week.”

“Oh, fun.” Kevin looked a little concerned. Nicky understood. It was never nice seeing someone be sick, especially when you knew there was something bigger going on.

“I haven't minded,” Nicky promised. “You're feeling better tonight?”

“Yeah. Feel okay.” Mark popped a straw in each drink, then carried them out, depositing them into Kevin and Nicky's hands. Nicky took a sip.

“Black Russian?” He liked these. Too sweet, but very relaxing. He could feel it settling into his muscles already, slowing him down. Kevin took a sip too.

“You're a talent, babe.” He smiled. “How's the bar?”

“Fine. Brian's watching it.” Kevin nodded, like he knew exactly who Brian was. Nicky had only met him briefly. Mark had said he was a manager or something. “Still using your photos on the website.”

“Like you could find better,” Kevin teased. Mark snorted. “The door in the men's still broken?”

“No, I got it fixed.” Mark glared playfully over his shoulder. “No thanks to you.”

“What happened to it?” Nicky asked.

“Don't you dare,” Mark scolded, when Kevin laughed. “He doesn't need to know.”

“Yes he does,” Nicky argued. This Black Russian was really nice. It was also mostly gone. He finished it quickly, then handed the glass out. Mark took it, replaced it with his own, then went to make himself another. Nicky felt a bit bad, Mark giving up his drink, but he was too tipsy to care.

“We shagged in the toilets before hours,” Kevin explained. Mark made a sound of disapproval. “Don't tell, like, the health inspector or whatever. Though with the amount of people caught shagging in there on a weekly basis, it's not like we made much of a dent.”

“We didn't shag in there.”

“I gave you a blowjob.”

“That's different.”

“It isn't,” Kevin retorted. Nicky chuckled, trying to get that particular image out of his head. Mark's head rolling back, hands fisted in brown hair, leaned against a stall wall and soft moans pouring from his mouth. He wondered whether Kevin was good at it. Whether Mark had enjoyed it more than he had Nicky. “Anyway, I got up, and I don't know what happened, but I tripped, or he tripped, but we fell against the door, broke it off at the hinges. Ended up on the floor with both our pants around our knees, smashed my elbow off the tiles, Mark cracks his head off the door, we're both flailing around like hooked fish... it was ridiculous.” Mark was starting to laugh. Nicky was too. It was pretty funny.

“Thank god we were closed and there was no-one about,” Mark chuckled. “I had to tell the staff someone had banged it too hard and broken it.”

“You weren't lying.” Kevin laughed. “Oh, remember that time I convinced the girl at Asda I was Ronan Keating?”

“She didn't believe you.”

“She did. She called me Mr. Keating.”

“You don't look anything like him. Your Irish accent is terrible anyway.” Mark sat down in the armchair, a drink in his hand. “She was just humouring you.”

“She wasn't. We took a selfie.” Kevin grinned, turning to Nicky. “I got Mark to go up to the counter first and go 'oh my god, is that Ronan Keating?' It was the funniest thing. He went bright red.” Kevin reached over, pressing his hands to cheeks that were going pink already. “So cute when you blush.”

“Fuck off,” Mark mumbled, kicking out at him. Kevin smirked.

“It's good to see you. You know. Despite...” He gestured.

“Yeah. Ditto.” Mark took a sip of his drink, though a smile was edging around the straw. Nicky wanted not to feel his stomach sinking.

“Keep in touch when you go back, okay? I'll come visit. I have to go over for work in a couple of months, anyway. We'll catch up.”

“I'd... like that.” Mark was still blushing. “Erm...” He finished his drink, then reached for the crisps. “Does anyone want another drink?”

 

*

 

“Am I a man?"

“Nope.” Nicky laughed. “Drink.”

“Fuck...” Kevin reached for one of the shots lined up on the table. It was late, almost two in the morning. Sunday morning. A week since Mark had called him at home while he'd been chilling out on the sofa, having completely forgotten that the guy had even existed. Now here he was in a dumpy flat on the outskirts of London, playing terrible drinking games and wanting to leap on Mark before Kevin got there first.

He adjusted the bit of paper stuck to his forehead. He didn't know how many he'd had, but he was definitely drunk. Mark wasn't far behind, and Kevin was pretty much gone. He almost knocked over his shot picking it up, then managed to get a grip. It was gone a second later.

“Am I...” Mark pursed his lips. “Am I in movies?”

“Yes,” Kevin announced. **MERYL STREEP** was written across his forehead in Sharpie, after he'd decided to forgo the piece of paper as too much fucking hassle. Mark had giggled while he'd been printing it carefully on, the letters a bit sloppy under a drunk hand.

“Am I a man?”

“Yes.”

Mark clapped in delight, then looked serious, his eyes squinting while he tried to think. Nicky laughed. Mark was an adorable drunk. “Am I married to someone famous?”

“Yes.”

“Um...” Mark looked at Nicky, studying him like he was searching for clues. Nicky smiled back. “Do I do TV as well?”

“You have done,” Nicky allowed.

“But not any more?” Nicky shook his head. “Do I have an Oscar?”

“Yes.”

“Am I... from the UK?”

“Nope. Next.”

Mark groaned, picking up a shot to end his winning streak. He knocked it back quickly, licking his lips, then gasped as **TOM HANKS** fluttered from his forehead. He snapped his eyes shut.

“Get it! I don't want to see!”

Nicky giggled and picked it up off the floor, turning it away. “Hold still.” Mark opened his eyes again. Nicky licked his thumb, then leaned in closer, pressing it to Mark's forehead. He didn't realise straight away how close they'd gotten until he felt breath on his cheek, and turned to look, meeting blue eyes that blinked slowly at him.

“Hi,” Mark murmured.

“Hi,” Nicky replied. Mark licked his lips. Nicky felt a shiver run up his spine, felt Mark's hand close on his wrist. “Erm...” He pressed it carefully back to Mark's forehead, and smiled when Mark did, at a gaze that peered out from beneath a stupid fucking piece of paper.

“Hi,” Mark said again. His hand let go. “S'your turn.”

“Kay.” Nicky didn't pull away.

“Am I a woman?” Kevin said suddenly. They both turned to look at him, Mark starting to laugh. Nicky giggled as well. Kevin's eyes were closed, leaned back in his chair, **MERYL STREEP** black across his forehead and running slightly with sweat.

“S'not your turn,” Mark argued. “S'Nicky's turn.”

“Am I an actor?” Nicky asked.

“Yes.” Mark nodded. “And so's your person.” Nicky laughed. “Nicky's an actor,” Mark announced. “He did adverts.”

“Did you?” Kevin opened his eyes. “I did an advert. Or... no, well, it wasn't really. They said it was, and then when I got there they said they'd give me a hundred quid to take off my undies.” His eyebrows knitted. “Shoulda taken the hundred quid, now I think about it. Don't say no to a hundred quid. And I was only seventeen. I coulda sued them, and made _lots_ of hundred quids.”

“Lessons learned,” Nicky agreed. Kevin beamed. “I only did a couple.”

“Can we see?” Kevin sat up, reaching for his phone. “They on YouTube?”

“I... don't know.” They were. His mam liked to get them out when people came round. It was embarrassing. “Probably not. It was a long time ago.”

“I bet they are.” Kevin already had his fingers poised. “What were they for?”

“Oh, er... I did one for Toffee Crisp?”

Kevin started to type. A few seconds later he let out a triumphant yelp and turned the phone around. “This one?”

“Maybe,” Nicky hedged. Kevin hit play.

“ _Someone, somewhere, is eating a Toffee Crisp...”_ the voiceover said. It was grainy, done probably in 2000 or so. _“I'm eating a Toffee Crisp,”_ a cheerful girl in a neon dress announced. A few other people followed suit.

“ _So am I.”_ Nicky winked. He looked painfully young, hair all floppy around his face. He took a bite of the chocolate, chewing slowly, eyes drifting out like it was bloody ambrosia. Mark started to laugh. _“Mm...”_ Kevin lost it as well while the logo replaced Nicky's face onscreen.

“Crispy crunch, chewy munch,” they both recited. Nicky groaned.

“God.”

“You were very good,” Mark said diplomatically. “I really believed you were eating that chocolate.”

“Thanks for your support,” Nicky drawled. Mark started to laugh again.

“I liked your hair,” Kevin announced. “Very um... curtainy.” He managed to keep his face straight for all of three seconds before collapsing into laughter again, the Sharpie on his forehead crinkling up as he giggled.

“Still my turn?” Nicky asked, trying to distract them. “Am I American?”

“No, you're eating a Toffee Crisp!” Mark exclaimed, breaking into laughter. Nicky groaned, then started to laugh as well, not able to help it when Mark poked him in the stomach, tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks.

“Ah, fuck off with ya,” he pouted. Mark hugged him gently.

“You were very good,” he said again. “Am I Tom Hanks?”

 

*

 

The ceiling wouldn't stop spinning. Nicky stared up at it, laid on his back on the pull-out sofa, feeling the springs dig into his back while Mark shifted beside him. They'd packed it in after the game, Kevin helping them to pull out the bed before he'd staggered off to his own, waving absently over his shoulder and wishing them a good night.

Nicky had turned out to be Christian Bale, after all that. Kevin was going to be Meryl Streep for at least a couple of days, Nicky suspected, unless he could find a way to get permanent marker off his forehead. Not that he was thinking about that now, not with vodka clouding his head and Mark laying heavy and warm next to him.

“Nicky,” Mark murmured. Nicky glanced over, saw closed eyes, a blanket pulled up to Mark's chin. “Are you eating a Toffee Crisp?” He laughed to himself, tugging the blanket higher. Nicky snorted.

“Not right now.” He couldn't wait for tomorrow, was sure he'd be bought one as a joke the moment they got to a service station. It always happened. “How you doing?”

“S'okay. Drunk.” Mark let out a long sigh. “Had a good night.”

“Good.” Nicky shifted closer, turning onto his side. Mark's hand curled into his grip, blue eyes cracking open just slightly.

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

“I liked doing it with you,” Nicky whispered back. “Thanks for having me.”

“Mm.” Soft lips smacked drunkenly together. Nicky felt his heart melt. A hand touched his hip, then Mark was shifting closer, his arm moving until it was wrapped awkwardly around Nicky's waist. Nicky closed his eyes. Didn't want to feel the warmth of Mark against him, the shape of him, soft and solid at the same time.

A face buried itself in his shoulder, Mark's nose nuzzling back and forth. Nicky sighed and pulled him closer. His hands climbed a strong back. His fingers caught in the t-shirt and he felt Mark push into him a little more.

“Sleep now,” Mark breathed. “S'nice.”

Nicky kissed his hair, feeling a heart beat against his.

 

*

 

He woke wrapped in Mark. Nicky didn't open his eyes straight away, sure that it was a dream, but there were strong arms around him, a head buried in the crook of his neck. He was on his side, one arm caught under Mark and starting to go numb, the other one draped over him. He could feel fingers up under his t-shirt, the hot shape of a palm on his lower back.

Mark moved, suddenly, a surprised jerk, and when Nicky opened his eyes Mark was looking back at him, sleepy and confused. He licked his lips.

“Morning,” Nicky croaked. Mark blinked, his eyes clearing, then he relaxed again, settling into the pillows. Neither of them let go. Nicky suspected he was hard, could feel the tight pulse in his boxers. He suspected Mark was too.

“Morning,” Mark replied, his voice sounding as rough as Nicky's did. “I was hammered.”

“I think I still am,” Nicky admitted. Mark groaned. His breath smelled terrible. Nicky's didn't taste much better. “I blame you.”

“It was Kevin's game.”

“I blame you _and_ Kevin,” Nicky amended. Mark snorted. “How you feeling?”

“Hungover. Fine, otherwise.” Mark shrugged. “Shitty and like I want to throw up and all that, but in a positive way at least. Not in a like... sick sort of way.”

“I get ya.” His fingers had started stroking through Mark's hair. When had that happened? He didn't make them stop. Didn't think he could. Mark closed his eyes again and let out a content sigh, nuzzling into it. “Fuck you're perfect,” Nicky whispered. Mark snorted.

“Yeah, okay.”

“You are.” He'd already said it, so he supposed he had to stick by it. It was true, anyway, he just hadn't meant to say it out loud.

“I'm a disaster.”

“That's okay. You're still perfect.” Nicky leaned in to kiss his forehead. Mark shifted, opening his eyes again, and when Nicky pulled back to look at him he felt the hand under his t-shirt move down a little, palming over the elastic of his boxers, stroking slowly from side to side. He shivered and pressed in. Felt Mark move, and oh.

Oh.

“Hey,” Nicky breathed. Mark's lips were really close.

“Hey,” Mark whispered back.

The kiss was soft. Full lips parted against his, clinging to Nicky's mouth for the briefest moment before lifting away again. Nicky licked his own lips. Saw Mark blink, long eyelashes flutter over pink cheeks.

“Fuck,” Nicky murmured.

The next kiss was more urgent. Mark's hand tightened on the small of his back. Nicky shivered, his own hand digging into a shoulder-blade that tensed under his touch, Mark arching in at the same time as Nicky did, a leg hooking over his and Nicky pushing up, opening his mouth and feeling a tongue coax him, tentative but insistent anyway. Hot breath filled his mouth, and his other hand clawed into dark hair, still a little numb from being squashed under Mark, but none of that mattering, not when Mark rolled in a little, his weight pushing Nicky down into the sheets.

Nicky gasped, pushing back. He heard Mark whimper. The kiss connected again, Mark's hand grappling at the elastic of his boxers and sliding in, closing around the cheek of his arse while Nicky yanked at his t-shirt, needing it off. He shoved his hand under instead and clutched at soft skin, felt it shift under his hand when Mark moved, felt a hard cock rub up against his, the kisses turning into hungry bites on his mouth.

“Fuck,” Mark croaked. Nicky groaned, lifting his hips, feeling Mark grind back. The hand slid lower, fingers trailing up the crack of his arse while Nicky tried not to cry out too loudly, fingers caught in Mark's hair and his whole body arching into the bites nibbling down his neck.

“Please,” Nicky managed. Mark moaned. “Oh, please...”

“Yes.” He heard Mark's breath hitched. Felt a finger trace the rim, the bites travel back up his jaw. Too much. Too good. “Nicky...”

“Mark...” Nicky gasped. “Yes..."

“I...” A thick finger pressed harder. “God you're tight. Oh god.” Hot breath bathed his ear. “What...?”

“Finger me,” Nicky urged. “Just...” He ground against Mark again, heard a soft cry full of want. Knew this was probably not clever, not with everything else going on, but it was just a bloody finger and fuck, Mark felt good. Felt right.

The finger came up, pressed to Nicky's lips. He sucked it in, saw eyes flutter closed when he scraped teeth down it, trying to make it wet. Mark was staring at him again a moment later, eyes almost black, cheeks flushed, whole body heaving. It pulled away and Nicky dragged him into another kiss, sucking down every harsh breath, feeling Mark's hand push back into his boxers.

There was a sudden slam, and they both looked up as Kevin came pelting out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. They were still frozen when they heard the sound of retching.

Mark started to laugh.

“Fuck,” Nicky whispered. Then he started to laugh as well, Mark's hand halfway into his boxers, both of them stupidly hard on a pull-out couch while they listened to Mark's ex-boyfriend throw up not five feet away.

“God.” Mark's forehead thumped into his shoulder. Nicky couldn't stop laughing, suddenly. Neither could Mark. The hand pulled back out of his boxers, and Nicky rolled onto his back, trying to catch his breath while Mark broke up next to him.

By the time they heard the toilet flush both of them had calmed down, both above and below the waist. Mark was shaking his head and grinning, and Nicky was smirking so hard he felt like his face was about to break in two.

Kevin staggered out of the bathroom, tugging on a robe. They separated, trying to look innocent.

“How'd you sleep?” Kevin mumbled.

“Not bad,” Mark replied. Kevin nodded and stumbled into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle.

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

“Cool.” He staggered back out and collapsed into the armchair. Nicky looked over, covering his mouth when he saw **MERYL STREEP** , still there and slightly faded. He nudged Mark, who looked over too.

He started to giggle. Nicky was gone too, shaking with laughter when Kevin looked between them both, eyes hungover and confused.

“What?”

 

*

 

They didn't tell Kevin in the end. They got back on the motorway by ten, both a bit hungover. Mark looked more relaxed, though. Nicky felt better as well, despite the aborted makeout session and the little knot of jealousy when Mark had hugged Kevin goodbye at the door and kissed his cheek.

They stopped at McDonalds for breakfast, Mark moaning something about how he was supposed to be losing weight, but after all the alcohol, crisps, and the big lunch yesterday Nicky assured him that they'd start working on it when they got back.

Nicky drove, glancing at the GPS every few seconds as they wound through unfamiliar terrain, towns flashing by on either side. Mark sat in the passenger seat, playing with his phone, flicking through music every now and then and adding songs to the car playlist.

They were passing through Coventry, almost two hours later, when Mark started to laugh.

“What's funny?” Nicky asked, glancing over. Mark held out his phone.

“Got a text from Kevin.”

 **You fuckers** , it said. Nicky started to laugh too.

“Guess Meryl looked in a mirror.”

“Guess she did.” Mark smirked. “We're terrible people.”

“We're the best kind of people,” Nicky argued. “I am, anyway.” He reached out a hand, patting Mark's knee blindly across the gear shift. “You're pretty great too.”

“I really am.” Mark squeezed his hand before letting it go back to the steering wheel.

They stopped for fuel. Mark went in to pay while Nicky used the bathroom. When he got back there were three Toffee Crisp bars sitting on the seat. He growled, saw Mark's eyes sparkle over a hand that was holding back laughter.

“Very funny,” he muttered. He tossed them at Mark as he climbed back in, got a grin. “Put on your seatbelt, you utter twat.”

“Yes, mam.” Mark did as he was told. Then, just as Nicky reached for the keys Mark leaned over, brushing a kiss to his cheek. When Nicky looked over in surprise Mark was already staring out the window, his ears going a little red.

Nicky smiled and started the car.

 


	10. Chapter 10

It was dark when they pulled in at Nicky's. Mark had done the last leg, back from the port, and Nicky was grateful, the night before catching up on him badly. They hadn't spoken much all day, had taken turns driving while the other one slept, and they'd both had a kip on the ferry back, had stayed in the car, Nicky asleep in the passenger seat and Mark stretched out across the back, the doors locked and a couple of old towels wound into the windows to block out the sun.

Mark helped him get his bag out, then climbed back in, asleep on his feet. Nicky was too. He kissed Mark once, before he pulled away, but it was chaste and sleepy. Then Mark was gone. Nicky staggered to his door, just about fell in, and was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

He woke late the next morning, almost eleven, and sent Mark a quick text to see how he'd recovered. He didn't get an answer. By two he was starting to get worried, so he sent another one.

By four he still hadn't heard anything, so he got dressed and went to the flat. There was no-one home.

The bar was open when he arrived, the restaurant running but with only one or two couples there, the lounge mostly empty as well. There was a girl at the bar. He asked if Mark had been in.

He was in the office, apparently. One of the staff led him back and knocked gently on the door, poked her head in and let Mark know he had a visitor. When Nicky went in he was in what barely qualified as a room, was just a glorified storage space with a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet in the corner.

“Hey.” Nicky sidled in. It really was cramped. “This is nice.” Mark snorted. “Did you get my texts?”

“Erm...” Mark's phone was on the edge of the desk. He picked it up, flicking through. “Oh. Sorry, I didn't.” Nicky got the sudden distinct feeling he was lying. “I recovered alright, thanks.” He put the phone down. “Sorry if I worried you.”

Something was wrong. Mark wasn't making eye contact, and he was definitely lying about not having seen the texts. He shuffled some papers on the desk.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just... getting on with it.” Mark shrugged. “You know.”

“Do I?”

Mark sighed, looking up. Nicky held his gaze, not wanting him to turn away again. “What do you want me to say?”

“I just... wanted to see if you were alright.”

“I'm fine.” Mark crossed his arms. “The drugs seem to be a bit more even now, I feel fine, so I'm just getting back to work. Everyone's fine. It's done.” He looked away. “I'm sorry I didn't get your texts.”

“Mark...” He sidled around the desk, crouching down. “If it's about yesterday morning...”

“It's... not.” Mark was going pink, though. Nicky frowned. “Just... look, it was a weird week and maybe some things happened that shouldn't have, okay? I can't...” There were tears standing in his eyes. A second later they were blinked away. Nicky felt his heart ache. “I can't.”

“Can't what?”

“Look, if I led you on, or...”

“If you... led me on?” Nicky stood back up. “What are you talking about?”

“I was emotional, okay? And don't think I didn't appreciate everything, but... you don't want this. You don't. I don't. It's like you said. If it's not serious, then why bother wasting time, yeah? You're not getting any younger and there's no point settling for someone who...” His voice cracked.

“Mark.”

“You should go.”

“I don't want to.”

“I want you to.” Mark stood up, but in the tiny office there was no room for him to get past Nicky, and Nicky definitely wasn't moving. “Come on, I'll walk you out.”

“No.”

“Nicky.”

“Mark.” Nicky put a hand on his shoulder. “I'm not..” He leaned in, trying to kiss soft lips, but before he could Mark pulled away.

“Stop it.”

“I...” Nicky bit his lip. Mark did too, both of them stood in each other's space, Nicky able to feel the heat of him, see blue eyes not quite wanting to look into his. “Please. Talk to me.”

“I don't...” He saw the tears well up again, and before Mark could say no he snuck one arm around a strong waist, pulling him close. The other arm joined it a moment later, Mark going stiff but not pulling away. Then he sagged. Nicky caught him, the two of them propping each other up. He felt Mark heave.

“Shh...” Nicky reached up to thread his fingers through soft hair. “It's okay.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Mark whispered, voice heavy with tears. “I can't...”

“You won't,” Nicky promised him. “It's okay.” He kissed a burning cheek. “You never would.” He felt Mark heave again, then let out a harsh sob.

Mark cried himself out after a few minutes. Nicky stroked his hair, kissing his cheek over and over again, feeling hands tense on his back as he held Mark close, refusing to let go, feeling him shudder and sob and wanting so badly to find a way to fix it. When he was finished Nicky sat him back down, brushing tears off his cheeks with his jacket sleeve.

Nicky kissed him gently.

“I'm not scared,” he murmured.

“I am.” Mark wiped his nose. “I'm really scared.”

“I know.” Nicky kissed him again, pecking away damp tear-stains. It was safe. Tears, sweat, it was all fine. Mark was fine. This perfect, gorgeous boy who hadn't deserved any of this. “You're not getting rid of me that easily, you know?” He kissed Mark's lips, felt them resist at first, then respond, almost cling to his. “We'll figure it out. I spent twenty fucking years looking for the right one, you think I'm not willing to make a couple of compromises?”

“I...” Mark was blushing. It was gorgeous. “You're mental.”

“You're not the first person to notice,” Nicky chuckled. “I'd also really like to take you out for dinner sometime, maybe.”

“That... sounds nice.” Mark's voice was soft, hesitant. Nicky kissed his cheek. “You don't have to.”

“I sort of do.” Nicky kissed the other cheek. “There's a lot of things I want to do with you, honestly.” His lips found the curve of a jaw. Mark shivered. “But dinner sounds like a good start.”

“It does.” A hand found his. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Nicky stood back up. Mark looked flushed, a bit of a mess. He looked totally beautiful. “Tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night.” Mark sounded dazed. “Erm... pick you up, or?”

“I'll pick you up,” Nicky decided. “Dress nice, okay? And you're not allowed to complain about the cocktails. We all know yours are better.”

“Obviously.” A cheeky smile sparkled in damp blue eyes. “Yeah,” Mark breathed. He looked back up. “Erm... walk you out?”

“I can find the way. I'm sure you've got work to do.” He pecked Mark quickly on the mouth. “We haven't even been on a proper date yet, so it's a bit forward.”

“My apologies.” Mark smirked weakly. Nicky grinned back.

“I'll pick you up at eight.”

 

*

 

Dinner was good. Mark answered the door in black trousers and a dark purple shirt that made him look completely delicious, though he looked self-conscious right up until Nicky gave him a swat on the arse on the way out of the car, eliciting a squeak and a playful growl. Nicky smirked and strode past him, laughing when Mark scurried to catch up.

It was simple. A bit of food, a couple of drinks. He convinced Mark to get up for one song, though he was definitely not a good dancer. Nicky didn't mind, wrapped in strong arms while Mark tried not to step on his own feet. He was blushing when they sat back down.

Afterwards Nicky walked him to the door, and kissed him carefully until they drew apart, breathless. They said goodnight. He got a text before he was even home. Nicky texted back.

He went back to work the next day. It was a new gig, a shopping centre getting a repaint in town. On the Friday he was about to go to lunch when Mark showed up with a picnic, Nicky hugging him in surprise and earning catcalls from the other lads. He gave them the finger, kissed Mark soundly, and they went to eat under a tree on the other side of the parking lot, Nicky smelling of turpentine and Mark pretending not to notice.

On Saturday they went for dinner again. On Sunday morning they went to the gym. Mark hated every second of it, but by the end he was laughing, soaked in sweat and looking exhausted when Nicky kicked him out of the car.

The next week they went to the cinema twice. The second time they made out in the back row until the usher scolded them and they apologised, giggling like teenagers once he'd left, Nicky's hand gripped firmly in Mark's for the rest of the film.

Three weeks later, Nicky invited Mark in.

“You want a coffee?”

“Tea?” Mark was shrugging off his coat. It was only two weeks until Christmas and it had been freezing outside. Not that Nicky had minded. It had given him an excuse to snuggle up to Mark in the cab. “Where should I...?”

“Oh, just anywhere.” Mark nodded. The coat went over the back of the sofa. “Make yourself at home. Take off your shoes if you like.” Mark kicked them off, tucking them under the coffee table. It was very sweet, like he was trying to take up a minimum of space. “Thanks for dinner. I had a really nice time.”

“Me too.” When Nicky turned around Mark was stood in the living room, looking around like he'd never seen one before. He hadn't seen this one, Nicky supposed. They hadn't gone into each other's flats since the road trip. They'd gotten close over the course of that week, but it had all been a bit whirlwind and confusing. He liked this, feeling like they were starting all over again, setting up boundaries and slowly breaking them down, feeling each other out like they were getting to know each other properly this time.

“Bathroom's down the hall if you need it,” Nicky offered.

“I'm fine.” Mark wandered over. Arms wrapped around him from behind, a kiss brushing the back of his neck. He wriggled, laughing when Mark squeezed too tight.

“Hey.” Nicky pulled an arm free and began to pour hot water into two mugs. “Your dancing's getting better.”  
  
“It's not.”

“You only stepped on my foot once.”

“I should try out for Strictly,” Mark mused. Nicky laughed, missing the embrace as soon as Mark let go. “We going to the gym tomorrow?”

“If you want.” They'd started to settle into a routine, going at least twice a week, though he knew Mark had been going more, had been doing it in the mornings before the bar opened. He could see a little bit of a difference, he supposed, but it didn't matter either way. Mark was still gorgeous. “My free month's almost over.”

“You'll have to get a new boyfriend, try to sign him up.”

“I think I'll keep the one I've got.” They both paused. It wasn't a word they'd said yet. Mark bit his lip.

“Erm, I meant...”

“I think I'll keep the one I've got,” Nicky said firmly. Mark went pink. His face broke into a smile. Nicky grinned back. “Fuck, you're cute.”

“I was promised a cuppa.”

“Fuck, you're demanding.”

“Yeah.” Mark snagged one of the mugs. “Got my check-up next week.” He took a sip, looking like he was trying to hide being nervous. Nicky picked up his own tea and blew gently across the surface.

“How you feeling?”

“Fine. Honestly. I feel like it's a mistake, how fine I feel.”

“No more side-effects?”

“Couple of nightmares, but that could just be... you know. Normal.” Mark took another sip of his tea. “I was gonna head up to Sligo in a couple of weeks and talk to my family about it, maybe. I'm going up anyway, for Christmas, but I might wait until after. It's not really a bomb to drop on Christmas Eve, but I feel like it's the kind of thing they should know. In case something happens.”

“Whatever you think's best.” Nicky touched his hand. “Want me to come with you?”

“To the check up or to Sligo?”

“Either. Both. My mam's doing Christmas this year, so I said I'd go there for Christmas Day, but I'm happy to drive up after.”

“That... would be really nice.” Mark smiled gratefully. “We do well on road trips, anyway.”

“Just as long as we don't have to stop in Athlone again. Worst eggs I've ever had.”

They ended up sat on the sofa. Nicky thought about changing into something more comfortable, but that felt a bit unfair when Mark was still stuck in suit trousers and a proper shirt, so he just undid the top button, settling back and flicking on the TV, neither of them really watching it. Mark was talking about work, and Nicky got up to get them another cuppa. When he got back Mark reached an arm out. He settled in. It was warm, fingers trailing absently along his shoulder and the beat of a heart steady against his back.

A kiss brushed his ear, shy. Nicky smiled, turning to meet it.

“I should go,” Mark murmured when it broke. His eyes were dark. Nicky swallowed.

“Should you?”  
  
“Shouldn't I?”

Nicky kissed him again, felt lips part for a moment, the hand on his shoulder stilling.

“Up to you,” Nicky murmured. He'd thought about this. Long and hard. He thought he'd already decided, though, somewhere along the line. When he'd felt a hand slip into his, and felt his whole body sink into one of those perfect smiles. When he'd kissed the tears off Mark's cheeks.

“I'm...” Mark looked away, biting his lip. Nicky stroked his cheek.

“Come to bed,” he urged. “We don't have to do anything. We can just...” He kissed Mark again. “Whatever you want.”

Blue eyes roamed his face for a moment, indecision plain. Nicky held the gaze. Refused to look away. Finally, Mark nodded.

“Okay.”

 

*

 

Nicky felt light-headed. Mark had climbed into bed while Nicky had gone to the bathroom, and it had all been very domestic, the blankets pulled up to his chest, his boxers still on while Nicky had come out in his pyjama bottoms and slid in beside him, finding his hand under the sheets.

Now Mark was kissing down his throat, Nicky's legs wrapped around his back, and he couldn't catch a breath. Not with his head spinning, feeling Mark's stomach grind against him while he rutted helplessly in, one hand tangled in dark hair, the other climbing a long back.

“God,” he gasped, arching again. Fingers dug into his arse to yank him in tighter, and he was fairly certain he was going to be done way too early. He heard a soft growl, felt teeth scrape across his collarbone.

“God,” Mark gasped back. “You are...” He caught Nicky's mouth again, shifting up, and Nicky groaned when he felt stiffness grind into his arse. “I wanted...”

“I know.” Nicky rolled them over. He didn't know what he thought he was doing, just knew that he needed to touch all of Mark, all at once, all the time. Fingers clasped under his jaw to yank him into another kiss. He raked his fingers down a strong chest, palming over nipples and feeling the kiss get harder, yelping when Mark's free hand slapped his arse.

He heard a cheeky snigger, then yelped when Mark did it again.

“You fucking tease,” he hissed. Mark grinned.

“So stop me.”

“Never.” He laughed when they rolled over again, Mark snuffling playfully into his ear until he was shaking with laughter, Mark laughing as well.

When they stopped giggling, Nicky paused, looking up into flushed cheeks, a silly smile. He ran his thumb across soft lips that sucked to it in a kiss. He smiled back.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Mark pecked his thumb again. “Can I tell you something?”

“Course you can.” Nicky wriggled, just to feel Mark shiver when they rubbed together, hear that soft moan. “Tell me.”

“I'm distracted now.”

“I'm flattered.” He ran his fingers up a stubbly cheek. “Tell me.”

“Yeah.” Mark settled down. His head rested in Nicky's shoulder. Nicky began to run fingers through hair, kissing the top of a perfect head. “So, you know when Kian showed up at my parents place?” Nicky nodded. “He tried to kiss me.”

“I saw.” Mark didn't seem surprised.

“Yeah, I figured. He...” A kiss touched Nicky's collarbone. “He said he'd changed his mind. That if I wanted... we could get back together.”

“Okay.”

“And I know he meant well, but he said...” Mark exhaled slowly. “He said that I shouldn't worry if no-one else would want me, because he'd have me. That he could move past it."

Nicky went cold with sudden anger. Mark wasn't a consolation prize.

“And I guess for a second I thought about it, you know? But then I thought... I guess I'd rather be alone than be with someone who only wanted me out of guilt, or because he thought he owed me something. I didn't want him to just... have me.”

“You wanted him to want you.”

“No.” Mark looked up. “He said he loved me. He probably does. But it isn't... enough. It was never enough. I wanted...” Blue eyes looked at Nicky carefully. “I didn't want you to want me either, even though I wanted you. I didn't want to be that to someone else, this thing that they were keeping around, that they were... tolerating. He was scared of me. I was scared of me, and...” He trailed off, biting his lip

“I'm not scared of you,” Nicky promised. “I won't lie and say I'd be okay with getting sick.” He brushed dark hair off a forehead wrinkled in earnest. “If things changed and you weren't well, I'd worry about you, but I'm not scared of you. We'll be careful. I want you to be okay. You make me happy.”

“You make me happy too,” Mark murmured. The anger in Nicky's heart melted, replaced with that hopeful smile. Kian didn't know what he was missing. Nobody did. “Even if we couldn't... couldn't have sex, I'd still want to be around you.”

“Oh, we're definitely having sex,” Nicky announced. “If you think for a second we're not, you've got another thing coming, Feehily.” Mark laughed, going pink. “I'm going to ruin you. Safely, of course.”

“Of course.” Mark smirked. “I'll safely make you come until you pass out.”

“That sounds amazing.” He gestured at the bedside drawer. “Condoms are there if you want 'em.”

“Not yet.” A kiss touched his lips. “Want to just make out for a little bit? I erm...” He nuzzled Nicky's cheek. “Maybe just until I have my next check up. Get my head around it. I'm still...”

“Whatever you need,” Nicky murmured. Mark nodded. “But I still get to ruin you.”

“Obviously.” A soft laugh rumbled against his ear.

Nicky drew him into a kiss.

 

*

 

Mark's check-up went smoothly. Nicky sat with him in the doctor's office while they told him he was basically fine, that the drugs seemed to be doing what they were supposed to, and that he was doing very well staying healthy.

Afterwards they went back to Nicky's and had frantic sex against the kitchen counter, Mark slamming in while Nicky cried out and spread his legs wider, kissing Mark deep, both of them giggling when Mark carried him into the bedroom, Nicky's legs around his waist and the bed thumping the wall with every thrust.

“Fucking hell,” Nicky gasped afterwards. Mark laughed, carefully knotted the condom, tossed it in the bin, then went to get a cloth. Nicky lay on the bed while Mark wiped him down, tugging him into soft, slow kisses, shivering when fingers trailed over his skin. “Do it again.”

“Let me get my breath back.” Mark kissed down his stomach, then stopped, resting his head there. Nicky closed his eyes. “Give me like... half an hour.”

He wasn't lying. Within twenty five minutes Nicky was sat in his lap while three fingers pistoned in and out so fast he thought he was going mad, every cry turning into one long wail as the pressure escalated, climbing and corkscrewing until Nicky was sure he _was_ mad, that this was all some insane fever dream and that Mark couldn't be real. Couldn't be this perfect. Couldn't be hitting the spot every damn _time_ because fucking _hell_.

He belted into his orgasm, both hands clinging to Mark so hard he was worried he was going to leave bruises, whimpering gasps making it out through something that was trying to be a scream but couldn't find the air.

“Oh.” he muttered, collapsing back. Mark chuckled. He looked very proud of himself. Nicky was glad.

Mark wasn't proud all the time. Sometimes he'd go into his shell, just disappear until it looked like he was struggling for the surface but couldn't kick hard enough. Nicky didn't mind. Some part of him didn't want Mark to rely on him too much, in case this wasn't forever. The rest of him knew Mark was strong on his own. That he'd start all over again. Nicky didn't want to start all over again.

Mark came to Christmas with him. Nicky's mam liked him instantly. He'd told her in advance that he was dating a very nice boy who was HIV positive, and she'd been a bit worried, but Mark had won her over and it hadn't even been mentioned, though Mark had looked thoroughly nervous all day.

The next day they went to Sligo and Mark told his family. His mother cried a lot, looked concerned when Mark was playing with Millie, but she did thank Nicky for taking care of her boy, and by the time he left Nicky had the distinct feeling that things would probably be okay. By the time they went back again in February she'd calmed down. She asked a few questions, Mark explained a few things, and then he and Nicky helped her with dinner.

But otherwise things were fine. Mark took his medication, they kept going to the gym. One night Mark accidentally dropped a glass and cut himself trying to clean it up, but Nicky just calmed him down when it became obvious he was starting to panic and got him to rinse it under the tap, wrapping a bandaid around it when it was clean and dry. That night he slid down in bed and sucked Mark in, playing him slowly, the way he was coming to learn Mark liked. His boyfriend came with a groan, fingers tangled in his hair while Nicky swallowed him down.

They had a little scare in March. The medication stopped working right, his viral load went up, and they had to change a few things around. Mark had a bad week on the new drugs, but Nicky stayed over and took care of him, calming him through the night and making sure he was keeping his fluids up. By the time they had another checkup a few weeks later everything was back to normal.

Kevin came to visit in April. He crashed on Mark's sofa for a couple of days. Nicky wasn't worried about anything happening. He went over the first night and they ended up getting drunk again, though Kevin refused to play any party games after the last time, when he'd ended up scrubbing his forehead raw just so he could go on a date that night. He was still seeing the guy, apparently, though he wasn't sure it was serious.

He took their picture. It came in the post a few weeks later, a beautiful glossy shot of the two of them stood near the living room window, Nicky laughing and Mark looking at him fondly, an arm around Nicky's waist. Kevin sent two copies, so Nicky framed his and put it next to his bed. Mark put it next to his own, and when Nicky was at home he got to look at it, and miss Mark a bit. He liked missing Mark, liked knowing that Mark was missing him too.

By the time Mark's birthday came around they'd been together six months. Nicky was doing smaller jobs, mostly house painting and small business, and things were moving along steadily. He surprised Mark on his birthday by showing up at the bar with an enormous chocolate mudcake and getting the staff to sing. Brian took over, and Nicky took Mark on a drive to the beach, where he handed Mark a key to his place and said to come over whenever he wanted.

Mark had come over that night. He'd stayed the next night as well.

A few weeks later Mark quietly presented Nicky with a key to his flat, and said it was mutual. Nicky stayed at Mark's for four days straight, raiding his fridge and waiting up for him to get home from the bar, sneaking down there for a cheeky cocktail when he didn't have to be at work the next morning.

He was there on a warm afternoon in July, half asleep and enjoying strong fingers rubbing his feet, when the doorbell rang.

“No...” Nicky groaned when Mark let go, pushing his feet away. “Come back.”

“Door.”

“Feet.” He kicked uselessly at Mark, who laughed over his shoulder, not looking nearly sorry enough about Nicky's predicament. Nicky scowled back. He was fairly certain he was going to tell Mark he loved him soon, but just hadn't been able to find the right time. He'd seen Mark doing it too, going to say something, then hesitating at the last minute.

“Hi.” There was a man there. He didn't look right, though, too thin, almost wasted. Was wearing far too many clothes for this time of year. Nicky craned his neck, thinking he looked like a cancer patient, maybe.

“Erm...” Mark looked surprised. “Sorry, do we...?”

“I don't know if you...” The man coughed. He didn't look well at all. “About two years ago we... My name's Stephen. We...”

“Holy shit.” Mark put a hand over his mouth. Suddenly Nicky understood. He stood up, his feet carrying him to the door.

“I...” Stephen bit his lip with teeth that seemed too big for his face. “Do you...”

“I remember,” Mark said quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Well... no.” Nicky heard a bitter laugh. His hand slid into Mark's. “Can we talk, maybe? I just wanted to...”

“Of... course. Come in. I'll...” Mark glanced at Nicky. “Kettle on, maybe?”

“I'm... not staying that long.” Nicky put it on anyway, not sure what else to do, then he sat down, the bubbling of boiling water rising to a drone in the kitchen. Stephen settled into the arm chair, moving carefully. He looked in pain. Mark was pale. Nicky didn't know what to feel.

The story came out. Stephen did live in Galway, was married, and had been hiding his sexuality from his wife, who had noticed the distance growing between them. He'd been going on work trips for months, sleeping around, and didn't realise that she'd been putting pinholes in his condoms, trying to get pregnant to make him stay, not aware he was using them with other men.

By the time he'd realised he was sick it had progressed past HIV and into AIDS, and he figured that the only thing that had saved his wife was the fact that they hadn't really been sleeping together anyway, not by the time she'd found out. They weren't bothering to file for divorce. They doctors thought he maybe only had a few months left, and at least then she could collect his life insurance. He figured she deserved it, probably, after everything. Nicky didn't know if he agreed.

“I just...” Stephen paused, coughing. “I'm just trying to find who I can, you know? In case you got...” His eyes were watery. Nicky wanted to be sick. “I didn't know most of the guys, but I remembered you lived here and...”

The kettle finished boiling. Nicky ignored it.

“I'm fine,” Mark said finally. Nicky looked up in surprise. “Got tested last month. All clear.” He managed a smile, though Nicky could see it was an effort. He couldn't manage one himself. “I'm sorry you're sick, though. I hope you find...” He gestured uselessly. “Well... I appreciate you tracking me down, anyway.”

“You're okay?”

“I'm okay.” Mark nodded. Nicky realised, suddenly, that the guy had probably been handsome once. Green eyes that looked too dull, one slightly cloudy. A strong jaw wasted to cord and sinew. “Sure you don't want a cup of tea?”

“I'd better get a move on.” Stephen stood slowly. He looked a little relieved. “I'm sorry. About everything.”

“No harm done,” Mark assured him. “Take care of yourself?”

“Do my best.” Stephen said goodbye. Mark closed the door When he turned around his hands were over his face and he was slumping, back leaned against the door. Nicky pulled him into a hug. He felt Mark sob.

“It's okay,” he whispered. It wasn't. It really wasn't.

“It's not.”

“Why didn't you...?”

“What difference would it have made?” Mark pulled out of Nicky's arms. “He's _dying_ , Nicky. It's not going to change anything.”

“But you...”

“I'm fine.” Mark bit his lip, looking away. Nicky touched his shoulder.

“You are,” he agreed. Mark shook his head. “You're the most fine thing in the world.” He kissed Mark's cheek, felt arms wrap around him again. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you too,” Mark breathed. He blinked away tears. Nicky smiled. Mark managed a smile back, though it trembled when Nicky kissed it.

The next one was steadier. Nicky kissed it too.

“You'll never be like that.” he said. “And if something happens, if that... happens.” He looked up. “You'll have me. Through all of it.” He brushed soft hair away from Mark's forehead. “No matter what happens, I'll never let...”

“I know,” Mark interrupted gently. “I might... go sit by myself for a bit, okay? I need to think. I'm just...” He exhaled slowly. “Yeah?”

“Want me to go home?”

“Course not.” Mark kissed him. “You think I'm letting you leave after you finally say you love me? You're never bloody leaving.” He hugged Nicky tighter, then let go. Nicky stepped back. “I'll be in the bedroom. You can bring me in that cuppa you were making, anyway. I think I need one.”

“Just want everything don't you?”

Mark shook his head, ducking back in for a kiss.

“Already got it.” He kissed Nicky again. “I'm gonna be okay.”

“You are,” Nicky agreed. “You're perfect.”

 


End file.
